By the Laws of Murphy
by Well I Don't Mind
Summary: Everything that can go wrong, goes wrong, and when it doesn't, you'll soon enough wish it had. Chibs/OC. 5th Season.
1. Good Day

**Summary: **Murphy's Law: everything that can go wrong, goes wrong, and when it doesn't, you'll soon enough wish it had. Hailey Reed knows this, since her life has been fully imbibed by it. So, she isn't really _that_ surprised when life decides to bitch with her, and makes her the main target for one of the most dangerous men in the US, and all because of bad morale, really. Luck of the Irish, eh? But maybe her luck is turning when meeting a broken and scarred Scotsman?

**A/N:** Okay, so I'm totally into Sons of Anarchy at the moment. I've watched all five seasons in like... two weeks since recently discovering it (I'm slow, I know), and I love it. More so, I'm totally fangirling (gosh, I hate that term!) over Chibs, and it doesn't surprise me one tiny bit. Oh, well, after watching the fifth season—I must say, Chibs is looking abnormally good this season—I just figured I had to do _something. _So, I'm going to give this a try. I can't promise that I'll upload frequently, but I will try, as hard as I can.

**EDIT:** I changed the rating, from T to M, due to future content. Not sure if it's necessary, but I figured it would be best to be on the safe side.

My version of Chibs is based on my other SoA-fiction, _**For Auld Lang Syne** _(shameless ad!), but what happened there never happened here.

Please, review, but most of all, **_enjoy_**!

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**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter One**

"_God, it's been a lovely day; everything's been going my way."  
_– _Good Day, The Dresden Dolls_

"Come on, come on, come on!" Another signal. "Pick up, Hailey, pick up!" Two more signals. "Pick up the fucking phone, Hailey!" The signals kept coming, but no answer. "You've gotta be kidding me! Hailey, _for fuck's sake!_ Pick up your _goddamn_ phone!" But there was no answer. Maggie started to panic, and tears wallowed in her eyes. "No, no, no, no…" What had she done? What the hell had she done? They had taken her. She was gone. Why?! Why had Maggie been so stupid as to mention the goddamn codes?! It was all too late now. They had taken her. They had taken Hailey.

**¤(SoA)¤**

It was dark, and there was a pressing ache in her head, and everything was spinning. Her cheek pressed against a cold floor. She was thirsty. And hungry. But mostly thirsty. Where the hell was she? She looked around, but it was too dark to see. She then realized she had something covering her eyes. Soon enough, she noticed her hands were tied behind her back. She gasped loudly when she realized she was tied, probably taken. Kidnapped. She lifted her head and tried to listen. Was there someone there with her? No… she couldn't hear anything. Slowly, she started to wiggle her hands. They weren't tied hard, and if she was lucky, she could wiggle her way out of the ropes. Suddenly, she heard a heavy door open, and she quickly lay her head down again, pretending to still be unconscious.

"Well?!" she heard a voice demand. A man.

"She's still out." Another one, much closer, waited a moment before he answered.

"Oh, come on," the other one groaned. "Sure you didn't kill her?"

"Fuck you, man!" the closer man spat, and then they left again, closing the door with a loud thud.

Hailey quickly started to wiggle her hands out of the rope. They had been sloppy tying her up, she could tell. What would they want with her? Why did they keep her like this? Did they just randomly pick her, or did they know who she was and if so, how could they possibly know that she would visit her nana in California this weekend? She pulled and pulled at the rope, and finally, she could pull her hands out of the ties, and as fast as her hands were free, she pulled off the cloth covering her eyes. At first, it was all a blur, but eventually, the eyes adjusted to the dim light. She was in some sort of shed, or something. Her heart was racing, and she trembled as she slowly rose. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she looked around. There were plenty of things she could throw around, and her eyes landed on a big monkey wrench. She grabbed it, and it was heavy, but that was good. As long as she could be able to swing it. She heard voices coming from outside the shed, and she carefully glanced out one of the windows, keeping down so that they wouldn't see her. There were three of them; skinheads with a massive amount of tattoos each. And they were armed.

"Oh, shit!" she hissed and hurried to duck down, the monkey wrench tight in her hands. "What am I gonna do, what am I gonna do? Think, Hailey, _think_!" She looked around. She would have to find a way to escape. That was the only thing she could do. Her only chance. She had to find a way. There was a window opposite of the one she was looking out of, but it was small, and high up. She didn't know if she could get out of it unnoticed. Her limbs trembled when she stood up to inspect it. It was too high up. She would never be able to climb out that way. Suddenly, she heard a phone ring outside the shed.

"_Yeah_?" one of the men answered. "_Yeah, we've got her. No, she's fine. Blacked out, but unharmed. Affirmative. What? Holy shit! Okay, we'll meet you up there! Twenty minutes!_"

Hailey moved closer to the window to hear a bit better.

"The Sons are on to us," said the man who'd recently been talking on the phone. "They're on their way. They might already be here."

"What? Here?!" another one spat.

"Yeah. Blake saw them coming this way. Jax Teller in front. Man, they mean business."

The other one sighed. "Right, Chris, you take care of her. We go and pack up. Let's hurry, yeah?"

She sighed as she saw how the three men split up; two of them going away towards a house, while the third was coming towards the shed. In panic, she looked around, and then hurried to stand next to the door, with the monkey wrench ready to swing. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest and ears as the handle of the door moved, and the door pushed open. When realizing she wasn't where he'd left her, the man gasped and spun around, only to be greeted by a mighty iron kiss. The monkey wrench smacked him so hard in the face, he fell to the ground, bleeding and groaning. Hailey threw the wrench aside and sprinted out the door, her legs still shaking, but she didn't get far until the man had followed her, shouting at the others that she'd gotten out. She ran along the street, passed house after house, and the three men were right at her heels. She heard gunshots, and she cried out in panic, but pushed her legs harder. She wouldn't die. She wouldn't die. She wouldn't die.

**¤(SoA)¤**

"You sure Nero said they lived around here?" Bobby asked with a frown.

Jax sighed. It seemed weird, they all thought, that White Power would settle in a black neighborhood. But that might be the idea, to hide where no one would ever think they'd hide. "Yeah," he finally said. "Straight from his guys, he said."

"An' ye trust 'em?" Chibs was cautious, as always, scanning the area.

"If Nero does," Jax said and shrugged. "Alright, behind that corner, down the lane. Let's do this quick and efficiently." He started walking, followed by a confused Vice President and a reluctant Sergeant-at-Arms.

"I don' feel right about this, Jackie-boy," Chibs warned. "Seems te me like—" A gun fired, and the three men automatically ducked and drew their guns. "Like we're walkin' inte a bleedin' trap!"

"What the fuck's going on?!" Bobby hissed.

"Come on!" Jax ordered and sprinted for the corner, followed by his men.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Jax fell to the ground, with a mess of red hair and sprawling legs over him. It was a girl, running straight into him, and behind her, three skinheads were sprinting, guns drawn.

"Shit!" Jax barked and threw the girl aside to aim his gun at the three men. Chibs was the first to stand in front of Jax, with his gun raised, boldly staring the three armed skinheads in the eye, while Bobby—gentleman like he was—helped the girl to her feet. Jax bounced to his, and joined Chibs.

"Stop right there, lads," Chibs warned as Bobby joined their side with his drawn gun.

The three skinheads slowed their pace to a walking, and stopped a couple of yards away. "Look, man, we don't wanna fight," one of them said, though not lowering his gun. "We just want the girl. Nothing else. This has nothing to do with you, guys. Just… give us the girl!"

"Yeah?" Jax sneered.

Chibs was on cue and redirected his gun towards the girl's head, who gasped loudly and froze at place. The three men reacted strongly to this and raised their hands in surrender.

"Gun on the ground," Chibs ordered, "or she dies."

The three skinheads reluctantly put their guns on the ground and held their palms up.

"Are you working for Craig Tyler?" Jax demanded.

"Come on, man!" one of the men said. "Just give us the girl! You can each have ten minutes with her, if you want, just give her back! Come on, man!"

"Are you working for Tyler?!" Jax repeated harshly, and Chibs pressed the muzzle against the girl's head.

"Yes!" one of the three men shouted. "Yes, okay! Just give us the girl!"

"Then you're dead men," Jax sneered as he shook his head while Chibs redirected the muzzle of his gun towards the men again.

The three men looked at each other in panic, until they cohesively hissed, "Shit!" and spun on their heels and sprinted away, and Jax quickly followed together with Chibs.

Bobby didn't even attempt on chasing after those youngsters and turned instead to the girl. She seemed terrified, and her shaking knees had been badly scraped from the fall and were bleeding heavily. "Are you okay?"

She looked at him, seemingly cautious, her face drained, before she finally nodded. "Yeah." Suddenly, she wobbled, losing balance. Bobby hurried to catch her and help her to sit down on the ground.

"What are you doin' with those morons, sweetheart?" he sighed with a frown.

She shook her head, causing her red hair to swirl around her face. "I don't know. I—I woke up, tied and blindfolded, I—" She started to hyperventilate, and Bobby kneeled beside her. "He pointed a _gun _at my head!"

"Now, now, don't worry!" he said. He had no idea what to do here. The girl was clearly shaken up, and Bobby didn't blame her. Lately, Jax's and Chibs' way of handling things had derailed a bit. He cocked his head; whatever these guys wanted her for, she was important enough to tie down and blindfold. This was not just someone they'd quarreled with; this was a hostage. He pulled out a bandana from his back pocket and wiped off her bloody knees. "You know what, why don't you come with us, and we'll patch you up? Get you something to eat, something to drink, and figure out why they took you?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes, blue as forget-me-nots, and struggled to find something to say.

"Don't worry," Bobby said and furrowed his brows. "He wasn't going to shoot you. We're not gonna hurt you, I promise." Soon after, Jax and Chibs came back, Jax looking tense, and Chibs hard set. "What happened?"

"We took care of it," Jax muttered.

Bobby wanted to scowl them both, but he decided not to.

Jax looked at the girl, sighed heavily and kneeled where Bobby had just stood up. "Are you okay?"

She nodded.

"What your name?"

She looked at Jax, and then at Chibs, and then at Bobby, on which she kept her eyes until he gave her a comforting nod. She then returned her eyes to Jax. "Hailey."

"I'm Jax, that's Chibs, and that's Bobby," Jax said. "Look, sorry for all this, but why were they shooting at you, and why were you running?"

Her terrified face suddenly changed, and she lowered her eyebrows in a sarcastic scowl. "Because they were shooting at me? Why the hell do you _think_ I was running?"

While Chibs barked out a laugh, Jax raised a brow. "And they just started shooting at you, just like that? Randomly on the street?"

The girl, Hailey, clenched her jaw and looked away. Jax sighed and straightened. Bobby pulled him aside.

"She said she woke up, tied and blindfolded," he said.

Jax frowned. "What?"

"She must be valuable to them," Bobby continued lowly. "Why else would they go through all that? Maybe she's a leverage of some sort? Ransom, maybe?"

"Well, she isn't any more," Jax said and raised his brows. "She's _our_ leverage now."

Bobby just stared at him, once again disappointed by the son of John Teller, the son who had all the potential, but that made him none the wiser.

Jax clenched his jaw, seeing the distrust in Bobby's eyes. "Look," he said through gritted teeth and leaned closer, "I know you're not with me on this, but she could be useful to us. As you said, why bother with ropes and blindfolds if she wasn't important? That was probably why they didn't gun her down while she was running; they need her alive."

"So we're just gonna take advantage of that?" Bobby growled back. "An innocent girl?"

"We don't know how _innocent_ she really is," Jax pointed out.

"Jackie-boy," Chibs called from behind him, and Jax spun around. "We'd better get goin' soon enough. Someone must've heard those shots. Coppers will be here any minute now, an' we better not be here when they come."

Jax sighed at muttered. He then extended a hand to Hailey, but she didn't take it. "Look, we just wanna help."

Finally, she accepted his hand and followed them as they hurried back to their bikes. Jax handed her his helmet and told her to climb on behind him, which she did, and then they were off, away from Oakland, just as the patrol cars entered the area with the reported shootings.

**¤(SoA)¤**

She was taken good care of. She had gotten plenty of water to drink, and they had been nice and friendly. She had been taken to a club house, their club house, and the words _Fear the Reaper_ was an ongoing theme throughout the premises. And fear the Reaper, she did. She didn't die.

"C'mon, love," said the Scotsman with those brutal facial scars, and that thick, hard-to-understand accent, as she had finished her second big glass of water, and walked past her towards a room. "Let's get ye patched up."

"Do I need stitches?" she asked and widened her eyes.

"Don' know yet," Chibs answered without turning.

Hailey hesitated before she followed him. She didn't like needles, and she didn't trust him. And why would she; he put a gun to her head. It wouldn't be nice facing him with a needle. But she followed him to a room where he motioned her to sit on a table while he dug out some things from a drawer, like antiseptic and cotton wadding. He placed a lamp next to her, and then put on white rubber gloves before he finally put on a pair of glasses and sat down on a chair in front of her. He smelled of leather and cigarette smoke, and as the lamp illuminated his face, the scars—clearly recognizable as a Glasgow Grin, she had read about it—made him look cruel and absolutely terrifying and there was a strange sense of calmness and containment in those dark, _intelligent_ eyes of his, making him even more frightening, and Hailey feared that those hands that had held that gun so firmly earlier would do more harm than good to her injured knees.

"Alright," he sighed. "It's gonna sting a bit." He poured some water over it, and he was right, it stung. But not as much as when he dabbed the wounds with antiseptic, even though he was much gentler than she'd expected. She twitched and hissed. "Soon done, love. Just a wee bit more."

"No stitches?" She wanted to sound more secure and strong, but her knees stung too much and made her sound like a lost little puppy. She hated herself for it.

"No stitches." He looked up at her, dark eyes honest and smile reassuring, and she relaxed.

Though, she wasn't sure she _should_ relax in these men's company. They were obviously dangerous, and she wasn't stupid; she'd heard the blonde man, Jax, as he had talked to the friendly one, Bobby, about her, as if she wasn't there. So she was to be used as leverage? Leverage to what? On the verge of asking the Scotsman that exact question, she closed her mouth shut and just watched him finishing up patching her knees with bandage, with much more skill and finesse than she'd expected.

"All done," he said and rose from the chair pulling his gloves off and grabbing the bloody wads of cotton and threw it all in a paper bin.

"Thanks," Hailey said inspected her padded knees. They looked clean enough, properly taken care of.

"Wouldn' slide on me knees anytime soon if I were you, though," the Scotsman said as he moved back the lamp and the chair.

Hailey huffed. "Noted."

Without another word, the Scotsman gave her one last look before he left the room, and Hailey swallowed hard. She was so far away from home. So far away from her life. She didn't know where she was, or when she would be able to get away. Again, she looked for the nearest escape route.

"Hey, Hailey." She was so startled she jumped straight off the table, her knees stinging as she landed on the floor, and pressed herself against the wall. It was Bobby who peeked in through the door. "Didn't mean to scare you, darling," he said and raised his palms. "I just wondered if you were hungry."

Hailey breathed rapidly, but nodded. "Oh, um, yeah," she croaked. "A bit."

"Well, come on, then," he said with a comforting smile. "We'll get you something to eat."

She didn't know why, but Bobby was the only one she felt like she could trust. She had a feeling that would be a mistake as well, but there was something about the man that reminded her of her father, and it calmed her. So, she followed him, though with hesitant steps.

Bobby smiled widely, making his bearded face pop in a very comforting manner. "Looks like Chibs patched you up pretty good, huh?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Why don't you take a seat, and I'll tell Chuck to bring you something to eat," Bobby suggested. "He's a surprisingly good chef. Hey, Chucky!"

A quite small man came sort of bouncing out of one of the rooms, with weird things on his hands making out his fingers. "Yeah? Oh, hi!" He smiled and waved as he spotted Hailey, and she hesitantly waved back.

"Could you make this poor girl something to eat?" Bobby asked. "Her name's Hailey."

Chuck smiled and nodded, and before Bobby left, he gave her a smile as well. It was hard, Hailey thought, to run away now, because she _was_ hungry. Lord knows how long she had been lying in that goddamn shed.

**¤(SoA)¤**

The table in the Chapel was filled, and Jax looked as serious as ever.

"What the hell happened out there?" Tig asked, clearly upset about the fact that he wasn't there. "Did you find Tyler's crew?"

"Yep," Jax nodded. "And we found something else as well."

"The girl?" Juice looked from Jax to Bobby, but avoided Chibs.

Just as well, the Scotsman thought. He still felt so betrayed by the young lad, he could barely look at him without wanting to tear his head off.

"Her name's Hailey," Jax continued. "She was running from them. She told Bobby that she had been tied and blindfolded."

"Internal thing?" Tig asked.

"We don't know," Jax said. "Whatever it is, they took the time to blindfold her and tie her down. If they wanted her dead, she would have been dead already, so they obviously need her alive, and it's pretty evident she's not willing to cooperate. Question is; what do they need her for?"

"She doesn't seem like the kind of girl to get involved with guys like that," Bobby sighed and shook his head slowly. "There's something fishy about this whole thing, I tell you. I say we take her to Roosevelt and let him deal with it. I'm sure he'll grant her some protection of some sort."

Chibs observed the man in front of him. He seemed shaken up, upset about the whole thing. Then again, Bobby had been rather skeptic to most things these days.

"Tyler could compromise our whole deal with the Chinese and the Cartel," Jax said. "He's already messed things up with the Mayans, and I've had Alvarez on my ass the whole fuckin' week. Won't surprise me if I'll get a call from Pope soon enough. This is heavy shit, guys. This man could compromise everything we've accomplish so far."

"And where does this girl fit into the picture?!" Bobby cried out.

"She's important enough to keep blindfolded and tied, and _alive_," Jax said and glared at Bobby. "We need to figure out who this girl is, and why she is important to Tyler."

"I don't think we should give any attention to Tyler," Clay said from the end of the table. "I think it's all an empty threat. Just a bunch of angry, white men trying to redeem themselves, or some shit."

"Look, I know we had our hands full with Weston and Zobelle, and now, with the Cartel, they seem puny," Jax sighed. "But I don't think Tyler and his crew are like those guys. I think we're looking at Damon Pope's white twin." He sighed again and looked around the table. "I'm not talking about keeping Hailey hostage. I'm talking about providing her protection, in exchange for some info."

"Wha' if the lass doesn' know anythin'?" The question had been bugging him ever since they ran into her in Oakland. She seemed so… clueless. As if she'd just been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Then we'll find out," Jax said. "Maybe she's working with something significant, or is the daughter of an enemy of Tyler's, or the wife or girlfriend of someone he's blackmailing. She's got to be _something_ useful. I say we at least try to get her to cooperate." When no one answered, Jax sighed. "Let's vote. We take Hailey under our wings and try to extract useful information. Yay."

Bobby sighed and shook his head, but then he grunted out, "yay."

"Yay," Juice nodded.

Phil agreed.

Clay shook his head. "Nay."

Happy nodded. "Yay."

Tig had no choice. "Yay."

And then there was Chibs. He didn't know where he stood. Did he think it was the right move? Probably not. Would he vote yes to support his President? Yes, he would. "Yay."

"Then it's settled," Jax said, "seven to one, we keep Hailey safe." He swung the hammer, and the Sons rose to leave the chapel. Jax remained at the gavel, stopping Chibs and Chibs only just as he was to leave. "A minute?"

"Sure, kid," Chibs said and closed the door and turned to Jax.

"Do you agree?"

Chibs sighed heavily and leaned against one of the chairs. "Honestly, Jax, I think it's bollocks. The lass don' know a shite."

Jax sighed deeply and leaned his arms on the table and slid further into the chair. Something was bothering him.

Chibs glared at him. "Wha'?"

"I want you to look after her," Jax said slowly, and before Chibs could disagree, Jax looked up. "I could let her stay with Bobby, but you know he's not really on board. I'm afraid he'll talk to Roosevelt behind my back. I can't let her stay with Tig—I'm not _cruel_—and Happy lives too far from the club."

"Wha' about here?" Chibs asked with a frown. "She would be protected twenty-four-seven here."

Jax shook his head. "This will be the first place they'd look at."

Chibs sighed heavily and paced back and forth in front of the door. "Ye're puttin' me on baby-sittin' duty?"

"You're the only one I trust," Jax insisted. "No one would ever think of looking for her at your place."

Chibs wanted to shout at the lad, tell him he was losing it, but instead, he clenched his jaw and looked disappointingly at him.

"Look, man," Jax said as he rose, "we need the information, fast. She needs to feel safe in order for her to open up, I can bet every fucking dollar I own on that."

Chibs chuckled darkly. "An' ye think she'd open up te me? I pointed a _gun_ at her head teday, remember?!"

"But you didn't shoot her, and you were never going to," Jax said calmly. "She knows that." He sighed again and placed a hand on Chibs' shoulder. "I need this from you, brother. Can you do it?"

Chibs tightened his jaw. As much as he wanted to punch Jax in the face and say no, he couldn't, and finally, he nodded. "Aye."

"Thanks, man," Jax nodded gratefully and gave him a hard pat on the shoulder before the President left the Chapel, and Chibs followed—after making a face of discontentment.


	2. Everything's In Tune

**A/N: **Realising that one chapter only isn't that much to hang on to, I decided to post the second one, just so you guys could get a chance to get into it a bit more. Hope you like it.

Oh, and please, go on youtube or spotify or anything and look for the songs from the chapters' titles, if you haven't heard them already, that is! :) They're really good, and sort of make up a playlist for this entire story ;)

Anyways, happy reading! Enjoy!

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**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Two**

"_Surely it's a sign now, that everything's in tune to some kind of higher plan."  
_– _Rise, The Frames_

If she had known that by going with these biker guys, she would simply just switch kidnapper, she would have kept on running. But now it was too late for that, and she was back on a bike, this time behind the Scotsman, who was supposed to be her protector. Ironically enough, he was also the same man that had put a gun to her head, threatening to kill her, the very same day. Hailey knew she should be more devastated than she really was, but she was far too cynic for that and established that Murphy's Law had a firm grip of her life, because everything in her life that could possibly go wrong, went wrong, and when it didn't, she immediately wished it had.

So, on her way to her new "safe-place", she decided to just live in the moment and enjoy the ride there. They would probably crash and burn anyhow. But she was wrong, because when had she ever been right? She was surprised though by the apartment, and impressed. It was very clean, very simple and seemed very, well, sophisticated. Not what she had imagined from a biker. Then again, _when was she ever right?_

The Scotsman sighed deeply and then gave her a smile and flung his arms out in some half-hearted attempt of seeming welcoming. "This is me humble abode. An' now, I guess it's yers as well." While expressing that last thing, he let out another sigh and unarmed himself and placed the pieces on the kitchen island combined dining table.

She looked around. The apartment was spacious, with only a half reaching, open archway window separating the kitchen from the living-room to the right, and to the left, there were two doors, and Hailey guessed one led to his bedroom and the other to the bathroom. "Nice place," she finally said.

"Aye," he nodded, "it is." He then leaned against the island. "Ye can take the bedroom. It's just te the left."

She raised her brows. "What about you?"

"I'll sleep on the couch."

She felt a bit bad, driving the man from his own bed, but she didn't dispute and headed left to examine. The room smelled like him, of cigarette smoke and leather, but it was just as clean as the rest of the place. The bed was made, the floor was clean, no clothes lying around… she was truly impressed.

He entered the room behind her, startling her to turn with his husky voice, "ye've got sheets in tha' cabinet over there."

"Oh," she said as she looked up at him. He was much taller than her, probably around six feet against her five foot four, and much older as well, mid forties, she would guess. Though she had to admit that it became him very well. "Thanks."

He gave her a nod and a smile, creating dimples on his scarred cheeks. "Right, well, I'll let ye set up in here an' then I'll walk ye through some shite, yeah?" He looked at her, and she swallowed hard. His dark eyes looked right through her, and it made her cringe.

She nodded, stiffly, and he left the room. She sighed in relief. Oh, why couldn't she have strayed with Bobby? This guy was creeping her out! Not only was it freaking hard for her to understand what the man was saying, but his eyes! It was as if they coldly slashed right through her—skin, flesh and bone—and it made her feel uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. It was the gun to the head all over again, only that there was no gun, just him. She sighed and glanced at the bed, well made and clean. She could hear Maggie's voice in her head warning her about signs like this. _This is exactly the kind of thing a psychopath would do_. Well, hopefully the Scotsman wasn't a psycho, just impressively organized. Finally, she pulled out new sheets from the cabinet and changed. The old ones—which didn't even seem dirty at all—were folded, and she brought them out of the room and into the kitchen. Chibs was zapping through channels on the TV, without really choosing one. Hailey walked carefully up to the couch and placed the folded sheets on the back. "Didn't know if you wanted these, or new ones…"

"Tha's okay, love," he said without looking at her. He zapped through some more channels before he sighed and turned it off and rose from the couch. "Alrigh'," he looked at her, "first thing." He raised a finger, but instead of continuing, he walked passed her, into the kitchen and came to a halt by the fridge. "Always, _always_, write down if ye use up the last thing of anythin', so tha' I know wha' I don' have." He directed his raised finger to a pointing state towards a stack of post-its on the fridge door. A magnetic pen was fasted next to it. "If I forget to buy anythin', I go ballistic."

Hailey was a bit shocked. She had not expected _that_ to be such a big deal. She was more convinced it would be something like "don't touch the gun cabinet" or "I'll kill you if you break my shit". But no, it was about keeping book. She nodded. "A-alright."

He looked at her for a while, and she was convinced he was a human lying-detector of some sort, with those dark eyes. Finally, he looked away. "Good. Now, secondly; if ye take a book from the shelf, put it back where ye took it. Understood?"

Hailey nodded.

"Same goes with the records and DVDs."

Against, Hailey nodded.

"An' don' move things around!" he said and furrowed his brows.

"Noted." Hailey was relieved there hadn't been a life-threat in there somewhere yet, because she had a feeling this man's threats weren't to be taken lightly. "Anything else?"

He seemed to wonder, himself. Finally, he looked at her. "Do ye know how te use a gun, love?"

Hailey widened her eyes. No, she had never used a gun in her entire life. She hadn't even held one. Rapidly, she shook her head.

Chibs seemed not surprised as he grabbed one of the guns on the kitchen island and went to stand next to her. He held the gun so that she could see its side. "Now, before ye can shoot, ye've got te make sure the safety's off. See this wee pin there? When the red mark's showin' ye're ready te fire. Ye load it like this," the sound of the gun loading made Hailey's heart race, and she gasped, causing the Scotsman to huff in laughter. "Ye're a bit jumpy, aren't ya? Never leave the gun loaded. If ye've loaded it fer no reason, discharge the magazine by pressin' tha' wee pin an' lettin' it fall inte yer hand, an' then slide the top back an' let the bullet fall down. Don' go all Hollywood an' try to catch it, the gun can backfire." He demonstrated it to her a couple of times before he handed her the gun, which she reluctantly accepted, and she tried to copy him under his strict supervision.

She was clumsy, and slow, and sometimes the goddamn top wouldn't slide. Finally, she got it all right, and Chibs gave her a encouraging, "good job," and told her to keep the gun. "What?" she breathed and looked at him, holding the gun between her fingers as if it was something poisonous. "Y-you want _me_ to… you want me to have a _gun_?!"

"Ye've got te be able te protect yerself, love," he said.

Hailey struggled to find that thought appealing. "But—what—I'm here? Isn't that, like… protection enough? You really think _this_ is gonna be necessary?"

A smirk crept through Chibs' scarred face as he shook his head. "Look, I dunno where ye come from, bu' I can bet everythin' I own on tha' this is nothin' like it."

Hailey clenched her jaw and glared at the Scotsman. His smirk had changed to a rather ordinary yet characterful grin. She let out a deep sigh and grabbed the gun firmly in her hand. Wasn't he even the slightest worried she might shoot him? But he seemed perfectly at ease. It annoyed her. She wanted respect. She _needed _respect. So, with gritted teeth and determination, she took a step back, loaded the gun and aimed it at the Scotsman, looking him boldly in the eye. She held the gun tightly with both her hands, arms outstretched forwards, but Chibs didn't move. He didn't even seem nervous. And not angry, either. Hailey held her place.

Then, the Scotsman chuckled. "Go on, shoot."

Hailey dropped her jaw a bit, her breath ragged, and she furrowed her brows. He wanted her to shoot him? Was it a test? To see if she could do it? If it was, he obviously didn't think she had the guts. She breathed rapidly, before tightening her jaw once again, straightening her arms further out, and finally holding her breath while her finger rested on the trigger, ready to fire.

But she couldn't.

She exhaled deeply while looking away and lowering the gun, disappointedly placing it back on the kitchen island, broken and defeated.

Chibs chuckled softly—as softly as the hard boiled Scotsman could muster, anyways. "Don' worry. In a matter o' life an' death, ye'll fire. Jus' don' forget the safety then."

She looked at him, with raised eyebrows, facing an amused grin. The realization hit her hard, and she frowned and sighed deeply; she forgot the safety. That's why he didn't even flinch. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Aye, if ye keep doin' tha'," he said and nodded.

She sighed again, feeling devastated and absolutely humiliated. "Look, I'm not gonna be able to use that thing! I—I study literature at Harvard, for God's sake! Shakespeare, Woolf, Mill, Wilde! Tell me to recite a passage from _The Tempest_, and I'll do it! Ask me what I know of Mark Twain, and I'll tell you about his whole fucking life! But ask me to handle a gun? I don't know a _shit_ about guns! I don't know a shit about why I'm even here! God!" It was as if she wanted to just collapse on the floor, she felt that drained, that exhausted, that devastated. As if it all clashed down on her now, like a giant bomb causing her whole existence to sway. She sat down on one of the tall chairs, just staring down on her hands on the table.

Chibs let out a sigh and sat down on the chair next to her. "So, ye've got no idea of why they would want ta take ye?"

She shook her head. "No idea."

"No' even the tiniest?" He seemed hesitant.

She sighed and looked at him. "Not even the tiniest."

"Fuckin' eh," he murmured. "Well, tha's a setback."

"So, what now? Are you guys just gonna… I dunno, shoot me? Do I know too much?" The cynicism was clear in her voice, but he just diverted her a tired and somewhat degrading look.

"No," he said. "We're not goin' te kill ye. But they migh'."

"Well, that's reassuring," she muttered and returned to look at her hands. After a sigh, she turned to him again. "Oh well, apart from my obvious death sentence, there's no need for being uncivil. Let me introduce myself, properly; Hi. I'm Hailey." She reached her hand out, but the Scotsman only looked at it.

"I'm no handshaker, love," he just said. "But I'm Chibs."

"Okay," she said and returned her outstretched hand to the table, her eyes following. "Chibs… that's an interesting name. I'm guessing that's not your real name."

"The Harvard girl ain' stupid," he huffed. "No, it's Filip. Bu' I prefer Chibs."

"Why, because of the scars?" She kept her eyes away from him as she drew her fingers from each corner of her mouth to her ears, afraid she might have gone too far.

But he laughed. "So, not only are ye a Mark Twain fantast, but ye're also a linguistics expert?"

"No," she said and shrugged. "I just… like words."

He inhaled, straightened in the chair, and fell down again while slowly exhaling, letting out a dark, "yeah."

"You never wanted this, did you?" She dared to look at him now, taking the situation into consideration and deciding it was a relaxed one. "Protecting me, I mean, or whatever this is? Letting me stay here?"

Again, he got that characterful smile that seemed to be fitting to be followed by a disappointing answer. "No, not really."

"And I don't want to be here, though I have to say," she looked around, "that this place is very… well, clean."

"Aye," he chuckled. "I like te keep it like tha'. Don' want te come home te the same mess I'm leavin' in the garage."

"Well, that doesn't seem so weird," she shrugged. "Though, I've gotta say, I thought you all were kind of… well, nasty."

He barked out a laugh, loud enough to make her jump in her chair. "Love, ye've watched too many films."

"Well, I don't know," she said, "the club house seemed pretty spot on, if you ask me."

"Aye, the club house," he smiled, "but this isn' the club house now, is it?. '_Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please_.'"

She looked at him with furrowed brows, only to find a very smug Scotsman, leaning back in the chair, daring her to comment back. "Did you… did you just quote Mark Twain?" She had to smile. She just had to.

"Ye're not the only one who likes words, love."

"Wow," Hailey said sarcastically and narrowed her eyes, "an educated and sophisticated British man during the day, and a mean killer biker during the night. Who are you—_Bikeman_?" She wasn't supposed to go that far. She didn't want to humiliate him, or seem like a bitch, and she regretted it the second it slipped out of her mouth, but by then, it was too late and the damage was already done.

The Scotsman clenched his jaw and inhaled as he rose from the chair and armed himself again, tucking two guns inside his jacket while leaving the third on the table. He seemed fairly annoyed as he lighted a cigarette. "I'm goin' back te the garage fer a while. Don' do anythin' stupid, love, like leave." And with that, he left the apartment, and Hailey banged her head in the table, cursing her own stupidity. It had been going well. She was making friends, and then, she fucked it all up; Murphy's Law.

**¤(SoA)¤**

He wanted nothing but to smack that little bitch around. How dared she—_how dared she?!_—talk to him like that? He let the nicotine calm him down before he strapped his helmet on and mounted his bike. It would get tough, he knew that, not only because he wasn't used to having someone around in his private space, but also because she seemed to be such a snarly little madam, with a fancy Harvard education and all. Sure, she was easy enough of the eyes, with that fiery hair and those blue eyes, and even though she didn't have a killer body, like most of the Crow Eaters, she sure was elegant and beautiful, so if she would only keep her mouth shut and be there for him to look at, it would all run smoothly. However, he had a feeling she wasn't the kind of woman who'd keep her mouth shut, and he wasn't the kind of man who'd curb a woman to silence. So, he would have to stand it. But when it came to women, he was a patient man, and thank heavens for that. How else would he have survived being surrounded by such poorly educated women as most of the Crow Eaters for so long? At least, he thought, Hailey's intelligence might be the saving factor for making this equation work.

As he backed his bike in place, Jax came walking towards him, his usual troubled frown upon his face, and Chibs braced himself for some bad news. Was Hailey the daughter of the most powerful criminal in the US?

"Hey man," he said. "How did it go? Where is she?"

"At me place," Chibs shrugged.

"You _left _her there? Alone?!"

Chibs rolled his eyes. "She's not goin' te leave, Jax."

Jax glared at him for a few seconds, before he reluctantly nodded. "Alright. Well… how did it go, then?"

Chibs shrugged. "She seems fairly settled."

"Did she tell you anything?"

"Well," Chibs said as he stepped off his bike and hung his helmet on the handlebar, "she's a literature student at Harvard, but as I told ye, the lass has no idea why she was taken."

Jax clenched his jaw, clearly disappointed, and put his hands on his hips. "Well, we've gotta try."

Chibs furrowed his brows. "Why are ye so sure she's someone of value?"

Jax shook his head. "I just… feel it."

Together, they started walking towards the club house. "Tha's not a girl who gets involved with creeps like Tyler, I'll tell ye tha'."

"We don't know that," Jax pointed out. "Maybe she got together with the wrong guy. Maybe she did something. Maybe her parents owe Tyler money. There's gotta be something there!"

"Fine, fine," Chibs sighed. "I'll dig around a bit more."

"Thanks, man."

"So, wha' do we know of this bastard?"

"Well, Tyler has friends in high places," Jax sighed. "Very high places, it seems. I talked to Pope; he wasn't happy when he leant to know that Tyler was in California. He says that Craig Tyler's got friends everywhere; senators, judges, top lawyers; rich, white men with anger issues. He's got ties to the biggest mobsters in the world; the Russians, the Japs, the Serbs, the Albanians… the list goes on and on. This ain't no amateur, man."

Chibs halted for a second, causing Jax to spin in surprise. "So… this prick is workin' with the _Albanian_ mob?"

"Yeah, amongst others."

Chibs continued walking, followed by Jax. "Don' know if I'm on the right track here, Jackie-boy, but Albanians are mostly Muslims."

"So?" Jax was a smart man, and small details seldom escaped him, but this one was obviously hidden.

Chibs looked at him. "Ye think White Power would work with Muslims?"

At a start, Jax seemed confused, but then he understood where Chibs was going. "Probably not… but no matter what White Power is doing with Tyler, do you really think those guys would dare to turn down someone with Tyler's connections?"

"Don' know," Chibs shrugged. "But ye wouldn' just kneel down without some sort of a deal, now, would ye, no matter wha' connections there may be?"

"Okay, so we can assume White Power has got some sort of deal," Jax sighed. "But why the girl?"

"I think ye focus too much on tha' lass, Jackie-boy," Chibs said. "Maybe, she wasn' even fer Tyler?"

"We don't know, Chibs!" Jax growled. "We can't rule anything out."

"Alrigh', so wha' if this Tyler is serious? Wha' if he means business?" Chibs asked. "Wha' then?"

"I don't know, man," Jax sighed and put a hand on Chibs' shoulder. "I don't know."

They continued into the club house in silence, but inside of Chibs' head, it was anything but. An anxious feeling started to spread through his body, twisting his belly into some kind of knot. He couldn't help but to wonder, cynically, why it so happened that no matter what they did, they always got smacked about by bigger guys with bigger guns. When it all came down to it, Sons of Anarchy was nothing but a motorcycle club, trying to make it in the big world. He remembered when it was all about the ride; the wind against the face, the feel of the bike, the gleam of the endless road in the setting sun. But now, it was all about the cash.

Inside the club house, he barely made it to the bar before Bobby was on him. "So, is she okay?"

"The girl's fine," Chibs frowned.

Bobby didn't seem the least less worried. "You pointed a _gun_ at her head, Chibs. She is _not_ fine."

Chibs gave the man a sarcastic grin and cocked his head. "Well then, Mr. Freud, ye'd be welcome te talk te her yerself."

"Maybe I will," Bobby said, in his usual, uncertainly determined way.

"Aye, tha's fine by me," Chibs said. "Ye go ahead an' play shrink with the lass. Trust me, she's gonna tear ye apart, ol' friend."

Bobby shook his head as he walked away, and Chibs muttered under his breath. Things were getting out of hand. The group was breaking. The crack was growing deeper and wider. Soon enough, they would all be divided.


	3. Doubt

**A/N: **This is a bit earlier than I intended, but here's the third chapter. Hopefully, you'll like it. Oh, and go listen to _Say it to me now_, if you haven't already, that is, but then you can listen to it once more!**  
**

Happy reading!

Enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Three**

"_This mystery only leads to doubt."  
_– _Say it to me now, Glen Hansard_

She had been sitting on the bed for quite some time now, grasping the gun in her hand, resting it on the knee. It was heavy, ill-fitting in her inexperienced hand, taunting her from its stance. _I intimidate you_, it laughed in her face, the coldness from its steal spreading through her body. She had considered throwing it out the window, but that would do the world no good.

After the eighth, or the ninth—or was it the tenth?—time she went over the day's events in her head, she took a deep breath and prepared the gun just as Chibs had shown her. She loaded and unloaded it several times before she had grown used to the movements and the weight of the pistol, and by the time she was finished, all bullets had landed on the floor. So, she put them back into the magazine and loaded the gun, but keeping the safety on. After that she rose, tucking the gun in the back of her jeans shorts and pulled the blue flannel shirt over the handle. Her heart raced as she left the apartment, and sprinted down the stairs. She was so getting out of there. She had to find a police officer, or _someone_ of the law, she couldn't rely on the outlaws!

She came to a sudden halt as she stood facing the front door. She looked out the large window, and fear took a firm grip of her, and she realized she could trust no one. Who would take her in the first place? The only thing that could be even the slightest logical would be—no. No, that wouldn't be it, because no one knew she knew. She made sure the gun was where she'd placed it before she slowly opened the door. The warm sunlight hit her like a fire, and the sounds of the cars rushing by, and the sounds of the people on the streets were just… amplified. Or so it seemed. She started to panic. What if they were looking for her? What if they knew where she was? What if she wouldn't even make it to the police station? Her breaths were stuck in her throat as the surroundings were caving in on her, and she turned and headed back up to Chibs' apartment. She bashed the door close and threw the gun onto the kitchen island and screamed, tears building up and escaping from her eyes. She was screwed. She knew these guys were dangerous, but she couldn't split. She just couldn't, because deep inside, she knew that Chibs and Bobby and Jax and Chucky and all the others might be her only chance of survival. She paced the kitchen, sobbing violently, tears falling and she brought her hands to her head to tear at her hair. The clock was ticking, and soon, it would be dark out, and she would have to stay the night. She would have to stay the night with a man that had pointed a gun at her head. Then again, she tried to calm herself by thinking, he was also the same man that taught her how to use a gun. If he wanted her dead, that would be counterproductive. She stopped to lean her arms against the island, breathing heavily, being very aware of each inhale and exhale. Panic-attacks were something she hadn't had in a long time, and she wouldn't be beaten by it. She wouldn't accept that.

"Calm down, Hailey," she chanted to herself. "Calm down. Calm down. Calm down." She inhaled through the nose and exhaled through the mouth, again and again, until she felt calm enough to breathe normally. Being completely taken over by panic would do her no good; she needed to stay focused. Finally, she sat down by the island, just staring down on her hands, and started to think. Everything that had happened to her the past month was reviewed in her head. Something must have been the reason for this abduction.

She didn't know what time it was when the door opened, and Chibs showed up. Hailey was still sitting by the island, and she had cried and cursed and laughed and screamed again and again, until she was so drained of emotions, she didn't even look at her host.

He seemed cautious as he closed and locked the door and placed his guns on the island. "Ye look tired, love," he finally said and leaned against the island in front of her.

She didn't look up. "I tried to escape today."

"Well," he said, not angry, not even surprised, "ye didn'."

"I couldn't."

"Why?"

This caused her to look up, and she was almost taken aback by the softness in those dark eyes of his, as if he was feeling sorry for her, as if he sort of understood her pain. "I—I don't know. I guess," she sighed and shook her head, "I guess I figured I was as safe here as any place else. Or I'm just totally fucked up right now."

He turned to open up the fridge and pulled out two bottles of beer and placed one in front of her before leaning back against the counter. "Aye, it's been a strange day, alrigh'." He opened his and took a long sip.

She looked at the bottle, long and hard, before she reached out to grab it. The sound of the bottle opening was a weird relief; she wasn't a drinker, but every now and again, a beer was just… right. She sat up straight and looked at the Scotsman. "The strangest so far." She took a sip but was surprised to see him grin amusedly. "What?"

"Ye're one cynical madam, aren't ye?" He took another sip of the beer and waited for a reply.

Hailey raised her brows in careless wonder and shrugged. "I guess I am a bit cynical at times."

"A _bit_?" he huffed. "I swear te ye, love, tha' comment about me bein' 'Bikeman'… though it was dark, cynical humor, I was ready te smack ye, an' I think ye knew tha'. Ye've got some backbone, I'll give ye tha' much."

It was weird, really, because as he said that, she sort of felt pleased and proud. It felt like something the Scotsman wouldn't admit to just anyone, and it seemed as if he seldom lied. "Well, thanks." She took a sip of the beer, just a bit more confident about things now.

"So," he said, "still no idea why they took ye?"

"No." Then she sighed and looked at him. "But you know what; why don't you tell me what _you_ know? I mean, obviously you knew who those guys were, right? Your friend, Jax, he asked them if they were working for _Tyler_. Who's Tyler?"

He seemed to decide what to answer, and after a moment he sighed. "Craig Tyler… is a very bad man."

Hailey rolled her eyes. "Well, that made my life infinitely better."

He, though, did not seem amused. "He's a gangster workin' with the biggest mobsters in the world. The men tha' took ye, are members of a White Power gang, Nazis, called The Righteous, which we now know are workin' fer Tyler."

Suddenly, her heart stopped. She was not so confident anymore. Nazis? Her eyes flickered about the room, and she felt her breath creeping to her throat again. A panic-attack was resurfacing.

Chibs leaned forwards with a concerned look. "Are ye alrigh', love?"

She rapidly shook her head, fighting fears and anxiety and cries and pain and everything else at once. She buried her face in her hands and burst out in tears, while trying to breathe through the violent panic. She heard footsteps and before she knew it, the Scotsman was by her side, placing a hand on her back, feeling how he leaned into her.

"Hey, don'… don' cry," he said as he gently, but desperately, rubbed her back. "They won' find ye here, love, ye're safe."

She wanted to believe him, she really did, because hearing what he'd just told her, she knew exactly why they took her. She didn't know how they knew, but it had to be for that reason. But the hand on her back, and the thick brogue soothing her, worked magic on her nerves, and slowly, she could start to breathe normally again. She kept her face in her hands, though, letting the remaining tears fall and create a pool on the island. She was trembling now, and she was sure that if she tried to stand, her legs wouldn't carry her far.

The hand on her back rubbed her softly and calmly, and finally came to a rest on her shoulder. "So, ye do know?"

She nodded. "Yeah…"

"Don' worry 'bout tha' now, love," he said softly. "Ye should get some sleep."

She let out a sigh, releasing one last sob, as she breathed, "yeah."

His hand slid down to her arm, and he squeezed her into some kind of hug, and even though she mostly mistrusted the man, she felt comforted by it, and she fought the urge to just throw her arms around him and give him a real hug. But that would be awkward. So she settled with the side hug.

"Right," she finally said and dried her eyes. "I… I really should get some sleep."

"Aye," he said and released his grip, leaving her strangely cold.

She rose on shaky legs and was surprised to find that it was as late as eleven. She shuffled herself into the bedroom and lay down, fully dressed, and just huddled up into a ball. She was so tired, so drained, but she had never been more awake. Her brain tried to process the recently discovered facts, and she tried to solve this conundrum; who told who about what? Had she signed her own death sentence, or had someone else done it for her?

**¤(SoA)¤**

Chibs felt that he wasn't getting any younger. The couch, comfortable as it may be, was not an ideal place for him to sleep, but he had slept in far worse places, and the pool tables in the club house was a regularity. So, maybe the couch wasn't so bad after all. When he got up, eight in the morning, to make some coffee, read the newspaper, put on some music, do some workout, and then have some breakfast, as usual, he suddenly remembered he had a guest, still sleeping in his bedroom. So he was quiet. He didn't wake himself up by listening to the Stones at a high volume as usual, and as a result, this morning seemed so much duller than usual.

He allowed himself to at least put the radio on to listen to the morning news while he, an hour later, cleaned up after himself. Nothing special had happened it the world, and then there was a debate about who should win the presidential election later that year. Chibs couldn't care less, and turned it off with a deep sigh. Then he heard a low and careful shuffle of feet, and he turned to see Hailey in the kitchen. "Good mornin', love."

"Morning," she answered and sat down by the island.

He observed her, and for some reason, his recent disdain for her was gone, because in his kitchen sat a young, broken woman who was probably haunted by a bad decision. She sat slumped over the island, her back turned against him. Her red hair was let loose—yesterday, she had worn it differently—and she seemed so dismal. That didn't surprise him, though. Without saying as much as a word, he went to pour her a cup of coffee and took a seat in front of her, waiting for her to speak.

She thanked him for the coffee but didn't drink it. There seemed to be something on her mind which she couldn't express, but Chibs waited patiently.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes tired and beaten, and then she looked away, putting her hair behind her ears. "Look, about my… well, _attack_ last night—"

"Wha' attack?" he asked blankly. Oh, he had understood from the beginning that her break-down last night was nothing she wanted to be even remotely connected to. He knew he wouldn't.

At first, she seemed confused, but then she shook her head. "Okay, I know what you're doing."

Chibs shrugged. "I'm not doin' anythin'."

"You're trying to make me feel good, you're trying to make me feel… as if I'm in a trustful environment, so that I'll talk," she said with a smug yet tired smile, as if she struggled between being amused and being serious. "Soon enough you'll comment on how lovely my hair looks in the morning light, or what a good accessory I am for your kitchen."

"Well, aren't ye clever," Chibs huffed. Even though this girl was getting on his nerves, he had to admit that he admired her ability to keep her head cool and even be rude at times other's wouldn't ever dare to think the bare thought. "So, I can skip all the smooth talkin' then an' get right te the point?"

"Be my guest."

"Ye want te tell me wha' ye know?"

"No."

He wasn't surprised, and by the look of her, she knew he wouldn't be. A laugh escaped him before he even got half a chance to stop it, and he shook his head. "Ye're dancin' with Death, sweetheart."

"What, you're gonna shoot me?" Somehow she expressed it as a challenging joke, and he prayed to God she meant it as that, as well. Otherwise, that gun to her head would cause him a lot of problems.

"Well," he said, challenging her back, and leaned forwards to lean on the island. "I jus' might."

"Like you shot those guys kidnapping me?"

Chibs stared at her. Now, there's something he didn't expect. Maybe she _was_ cleverer than any of them thought.

A ghost of a smirk crept over her lips, and she tipped her head to the side. "Oh, don't be so surprised. It was easy enough to figure out. I've read enough books and seen enough movies to know that 'we took care of it' usually means 'we killed them'."

Chibs sighed and leaned further onto the island, clasping his hands while keeping his eyes on hers. "Ye don' seem very upset by tha'."

"You shoved a gun into my hand telling me that I had to be prepared to protect myself," she pointed out. "I think I have a fairly good idea of what to expect of you guys."

"An' wha' do ye expect of lads like Craig Tyler, then?" She glared at him, but he was fairly confident she would not beat him in a stare down.

"I'm not going to tell you."

"Why?"

She looked away, a soft, smug chuckle escaping her mouth. "You're kidding me, right?"

Chibs kept his hard gaze and decided not to answer. He didn't think she even required it.

She rolled her eyes. "If they took me for the reason I think they did, then how can I trust you not to do the same thing when you find out?"

He shrugged. "Ye're free te walk out tha' door any time, love." He motioned his head towards the door, but he was confident she wouldn't walk away. She had her chance yesterday, but she didn't take it. She tried, obviously, but for some reason, she changed her mind. Chibs presumed she would stay this time for the same reason as last time. The girl in front of him clenched her jaw and seemed torn. To go or to not to go? It was amusing to Chibs, how this fine madam could seem so bold one minute, and the next, frightened—yet bitterly stubborn—like an obstinate child. "The choice is yers. No matter wha' ye choose, I promise we won' hurt ye. I'm a man of me words."

She kept that same expression for a moment, before her eyes darkened. "Bullshit."

He sighed. Oh, he had patient, alright! But it was running thin. "Right, let's do it this way; ye walk away, an' ye're free. We won' come after ye, but I can' promise no one else will. If ye stay, ye tell me wha' ye know."

Another stare down, and this time, her face was hard as stone, but Chibs had never failed. Finally, she broke eye contact, and slumped down. "Fine. Fine, I'll tell you." She sighed and looked up again. "But you have to _promise _you won't hurt me!"

He nodded. "Aye, I promise. I won' hurt ye, an' neither will anyone of the Sons."

She took a deep breath. "I'm not sure whether or not this is the reason, but it's the only thing I can think of."

"Go ahead," he said and nodded in encouragement.

"Right," she sighed and frowned. "Okay, so, I told you I study at Harvard, right? Well, ever since I was a kid, I've been interested in cryptography, and when I started at Harvard, I found that my literature professor also held a cryptology class, which I signed up for, of course. Although, on top of my other studies, this class was very heavy, and I wanted to do well. I've always been on top of every class, and I didn't want to disappoint my professor. Then one day, I had completely forgotten to study for an exam, so… well, I cheated." She clenched her jaw and fiddled with the cup of coffee in front of her, as if ashamed.

Chibs raised a brow. "Ye think they abducted ye because ye cheated on a test?"

She glared at him. "Oh, yes. Harvard people take cheating very seriously; you could get killed." Sarcasm was staining her every word, and afterwards she rolled her eyes. "No, it's not because I cheated. However, if I hadn't this would probably never happen. Story of my life. Oh well, my professor found out, somehow, and was very disappointed in me. But he gave me one more chance. So, he handed me these… documents. I didn't know what they were, he just said they were codes I needed to decipher, and when I was done, I'd give the answers to him, and he would just forget all about my cheat. I didn't question him, and took the papers home to get them finished by the next day. The codes were hard to decipher, but I figured this was my professor, trying to make me show how good I really was. Finally, I finished them. It took me a bit longer than expected, but I finished them. The only thing was, that when I had finished them, I recognized their form. Bank accounts." She took a dramatic pause, and Chibs waited patiently for the continuation. "There were eight of them, none of which were place inside of the US. After a quick little research, I found that these accounts were stationed in Zürich, Switzerland. They were the codes to safety deposit boxes in Zürich, which can't be opened without the correct account number."

Chibs wasn't slow, and he quickly understood that those accounts probably contained a shitload of money. "Which ye had," he nodded.

She nodded, too. "I had no time to find out who the safety deposit boxes belonged to, but I—out of sheer instinct, I suppose—changed some numbers here and there, both in the original papers and my answers, after copying it all for myself, and then handed them to my professor, playing all nice and innocent. He didn't suspect a thing."

Chibs furrowed his brows, not sure what to make of her story. Was she screwing with him? "How old are ye, love?"

She glowered at him for a while before rolling her eyes. "Twenty-four. Why?"

"So, ye're a… number magician and a forger, or wha'?" He raised a brow, struggling himself between being amused and being serious. "An' so young as well? Mindblowin'."

She raised a brow, too, though not in the same manner as him. She was clearly not amused. "As much as I'd like to say 'yes, I'm the freaking Superwoman of numbers and false copies', I'm not, so no. I just happen to know a thing or two about this shit, and have since I was twelve."

"Alrigh', then explain te me why yer teacher gave those codes te ye then? If it was so important, why didn' he do 'em himself?"

She shrugged. "Just because he teaches doesn't mean he can perform. Ever heard of, 'those who can't do, teach'?"

"So he needs those top secret codes deciphered, but he can' do it himself, an' there ye are, an ambitious student lookin' desperately fer a way of correctin' a mistake, am I right?" As much as the story sounded ridiculously unlikely, he saw the logic in it.

"I suppose so," she said and looked down on her cup. "He seemed… stressed and nervous when I returned those codes. As if he was, I don't know, expecting someone, or perhaps going away. I got a strange feeling that those codes were… meant for someone else."

"Did ye find out why the accounts belongs te?"

She nodded slowly, making her fiery hair slowly slide away from her right ear and fall like a curtain. The sunshine from the window got caught in it, and set it truly on fire. Any other circumstance, and he would have found that enormously attractive, but at the moment, all he could think about was the colors that played on the woman's cheek; fire. "They belonged to a German born American citizen named Siegfried Barnaum." She tore the man out of his thoughts. "Mr. Barnaum died six months ago."

"An' who was Siegfried Barnaum?" Chibs asked.

"A quick research on the internet told me he was very active in Nazi movements during the whole of his life, and he's said to have the world's biggest World War II collection, with artifacts, actual documents and other shit. A couple of years ago, he sold most of his stuff. He had cancer, he knew he was dying. I don't know if this is true, but according to the articles I read, he acquired over five billion dollars for that collection."

Chibs narrowed his eyes. Was she telling him, that she—the clever girl from Harvard—possessed the keys to back accounts worth over five _billion_ dollars? "What?" He couldn't quite comprehend it.

There was a flicker of fear in her eyes as she suddenly glanced over the guns on the table and then back at him. "You're going to kill me now, aren't you? You promised you wouldn't hurt me…"

But he didn't listen. Instead, he fell back into his chair, stroking his beard. "Tha's… tha's just insane! Tha's why Tyler got those idiots workin' fer him…" He was mostly talking to himself, trying to make the pieces fit together in his head. He then shot his eyes up at her, and she flinched. "Who did ye tell?"

"What?"

"Ye must've told someone!" He leaned forwards over the island. "Or ye think yer professor ratted ye out?"

"What? No!" she spat. "Why would he do that? Compromise his own reputation by telling the world the work was done by a student? No, he wouldn't do that. Besides, he wouldn't put me in danger."

Chibs rolled his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he felt impatient. "I don' give a shite about yer crush on yer professor; someone ratted on ye. Otherwise they wouldn' know ye had the codes now, would they?"

"I do not have a crush on my professor!" she gasped offended.

He then leaned back, again not listening. "It all makes sense; they wouldn' kill ye because ye were the only one who knew the right answers."

"Well, actually," she said lowly, "I did tell someone else."

"Who?"

"My best friend." She widened her eyes. "But she would never tell anyone! And even if she would, it would be no one of consequence! All she does is hang out with hippie-kids and hipsters! They don't know a shit about cryptology, and even if they did, they'd pay no attention to it, just mention something randomly to seem smart! I only told her that the numbers were bank accounts in Zürich; I mentioned nothing about Barnaum or the value, or anything, I swear!"

Her panic and pleading took him aback. It seemed out of character. "I believe ye." He then sighed and leaned forwards again. "But, ye know, love, these things can spread like wild fire. Wha' if she mentioned it at the wrong place at the wrong time? Shite like tha' happen all the time."

"She wouldn't, she promised."

He sighed deeply. It didn't really matter who told who; Tyler seemed to know anyhow, and that was too late to change. "Right, well, c'mon." He rose from the chair and went to tuck his guns into his shoulder holster.

"What?" she asked, her voice uncertain. "Where are we going?"

"Ye're goin' te tell everyone wha' ye've just told me." He put on his kutte and slid his sunglasses onto his head.

She made a face of discontentment as she slid off the chair to put her shoes on.

Chibs surprised himself; yesterday, he thought it would be practically impossible to make this girl talk, and today, he wished she hadn't, because this was some heavy shit, and he had no idea of how the club was going to react. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know, but it had to be done.


	4. Simple Sniff of Riches

**A/N:** Hey guys, thank you all for the reviews, it really warms my heart! Alright, so this is the fourth chapter, and we get a little deeper look into Hailey's problems, but she also finds a relief.

Okay, so, the title quote to this chapter is by, as you can see, **Mumford and Sons**, and the song is _Thistle & Weeds_, a very much underrated song of theirs. I recommend you all to look it up and listen the s*it out of it, because it's totally worth it.

Anyhow, happy reading!

Enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Four**

"_Corrupted by the simple sniff of riches blown."  
_– _Thistle & Weeds, Mumford and Sons_

_Five days earlier;_

Maggie couldn't believe it. Firstly; did Hailey—_Hailey_—cheat on an exam? Fucking unbelievable. And secondly; had Mr. Reins let her off with an _assignment_? He _so_ wanted her, that slimy creep.

"Mags?" Hailey's sweet voice annoyed the shit out of her right now, but she looked at her friend with a smile.

"Yeah?"

"Oh, I just wanted to make sure you're still with me," Hailey smiled. "Look, seriously, you can't tell anyone. I don't think Mr. Reins ever suspected I'd figure this much out."

Maggie nodded and then shook her head. "Yeah, no, I know."

Her friend sighed heavily, a dark shadow settling over her face. "What am I gonna do? I gave him the wrong documents, Mags! He's gonna find out!"

"Just, explain yourself," Maggie suggested. "Tell him… tell him you accidentally spilled coffee on the originals and, in panic, printed new ones, hoping he wouldn't notice. He'll forgive you. The man's crazy about you."

Hailey rolled her eyes, not at all satisfied. "Fuck you."

"No, but he'd very much like to fuck _you_," Maggie teased and raised her brows.

"You're disgusting, did you know that?" Hailey muttered. "How old is he? Like ninety?"

"Sixty-seven."

"My point exactly." She sighed again, this time frustrated.

"Well, age is but a number," Maggie said smugly. "And by sleeping with him, you'll have your résumé in the bag."

"I'm serious, Maggie! What the hell am I gonna do? I he finds out… this could ruin my whole, goddamn career!" Hailey was beside herself.

"A career you don't _have_ yet," Maggie groaned. "Look, Hal, you're worrying too much about shit that doesn't matter!"

Hailey slumped down beside her, burying her face in her hands with an angry growl. "Maybe I should just… you know, do it. Do _him_. And use it against him. Then he wouldn't use the fake copies against me, because who'd lose the most; him or me?"

"_Don't_ even think about it!" Maggie warned. "I was just kidding. It was a joke! Pull yourself together, goddamn it!"

Hailey looked up, her face blank yet devastated. "I don't know what to do here, Mags."

"It's gonna be okay, Hal," Maggie told her. "Don't you worry. It's not like he'd ever report you, he wouldn't do that! I mean, for all we know, those document could be illegal—"

"Oh, why the hell would Mr. Reins hand _me_ illegal documents to decipher?" Hailey spat. "Let's be real for once, okay?"

"So, you don't know whose accounts they are?"

Hailey shook her head. "Nope. Don't even know if that's traceable. Oh, fuck it, I'll come clean tomorrow. I have to get back to the library; Simon's gonna kill me for not making those copies as I promised."

"Yeah, okay," Maggie nodded and watched her friend rise from the bench. "See you tonight?"

"Alpha-Beta-Gamma, baby!" Hailey cried in sarcastic excitement as she walked backwards with her hands in the air. "Oh yeah!" She then laughed, waving her hands. "No, I'm just kidding. Yeah, I'll be there. See you then."

Maggie gave her a fake smile back before Hailey turned to head for the library. Maggie was furious. Not at Hailey, she did nothing wrong—except for cheating, but Maggie had no right to play judge and jury on that—but at Mr. Reins' ridiculous obsession with Hailey; no matter what she did, she was always perfect in his eyes. Of course he had given her a special assignment so he could give her an A. Of course he had entrusted her with such a task, and of course he had invited her to the Conference of Literature in Washington DC next month. Maybe that was what ticked her off; the fact that Hailey was the one to get invited—_Hailey_, who didn't even like those stupid conferences—and not Maggie. Maggie loved those things, and she was always networking, and she was generally liked by them all. But not like Hailey, oh no, because who could refuse that pretty face of hers with those big, blue eyes and that red, Irish head of hair? The fact that behind that façade of prettiness hid a rather cruel, cynical life-hating bitch, the bitch Maggie loved, seemed to never quite make it to the spotlight. And it annoyed the shit out of Maggie.

She didn't want to ruin things for Hailey, she really didn't. But neither did she want to ruin things for herself, and it was because of that she found herself inside of Mr. Rein's office an hour later.

"So," said the professor, and fixed his glasses before clasping his hands and looking at her with that slimy grin of his. "You want me to advise Miss Reed to stay behind to that you can steal her place at the conference."

_Yes, that, and to save her from you trying to get into her pants_, Maggie thought bitterly. "Well, it wouldn't be stealing. I mean, she doesn't really want to go to that thing, Mr. Reins, but she's afraid she'll disappoint if she doesn't."

"Well, I last spoke with her yesterday, and she seemed very excited about it," he said. "I don't think it's appropriate for me to even discuss this with you, Miss Ellis."

"I know, I know," Maggie assured him. "But I'm guessing we both want the best for her; that bank account thing really took the last bit of energy out of her. She's got like her own Starbucks in her room, I swear it." She immediately shut her mouth tight. Did she just mention the bank accounts? _Shit!_

Mr. Reins seemed surprised, as well. "Excuse me?"

"Starbucks?" She knew she was trotting on a minefield, but she needed a rescue, and she needed it now. "Yeah, she's totally high on caffeine right now."

Mr. Reins suddenly started to fiddle with his papers on the desk, nervously and desperately. "Yes, well, um, I'll think about it." He looked up and gave her a fake smile, and Maggie clenched her jaw. "I'm very sorry, Miss Ellis, but I'm shoulder-deep in paperwork, as you may see."

"Right," Maggie nodded and stood up. "Well, I'm sorry to disturb you. Thank you, Mr. Reins." And then she left, cursing herself as she headed down the corridor and towards campus.

_Present day;_

Hailey found herself in the club house, trying to entertain herself while the motorcycle club had their meeting, deciding what to do with her after receiving this new intelligence. She was bored, and nervous. She knew that shit with the codes would come back and bite her in the butt. She shouldn't have told him. She should have left when she had the chance, because that opportunity had now flown right out the window and was unlikely to ever come back.

Chuck, the skittish man with the prosthetic fingers, tried to entertain her by telling her jokes or even reciting Shakespeare, and even though she found it both amusing and intriguing that a man with such literary knowledge would hang out with bikers, she couldn't fully appreciate his efforts. Not even when he spoke to her in verses and rhymes. _Verses and rhymes_. Finally, he just sat down next to her, silent.

"I'm sorry," she said, "that you have to be stuck here. You've got talent; you shouldn't waste it on these sorry ass macho bullshit bikers."

"Oh, no," he said. "The best way for you to strive, is that amongst friends you will thrive."

"Really, Chucky," she chuckled, "enough with the rhymes, okay?"

He nodded. "Oh, okay."

"How did you end up here, anyways?"

"Well, they helped me with a few things," Chuck said and furrowed his brows. "I work for them now. Accountant."

Hailey nodded. "Nice. So, what do you think they're gonna do to me? Think they'll kill me?"

"Nah," Chuck said and shrugged. "You're too pretty for that!"

"Chucky!" a woman called, and Chuck rose.

"Yes, ma'am!" he called back. "I'll be right out, ma'am!"

A woman appeared in the doorway, a good looking one, clearly very concerned about her appearance. "Chucky, where did you put the papers for last month? Oh…" She smiled as she laid her eyes on Hailey. "You've gotta be Hailey, right?"

Hailey sized her up. She looked good, but intimidating. "Depends on who's asking."

The woman smiled and crossed her arms. "They said you were sharp. I'm Gemma." She reached her hand out. "Jax's mother."

"Hailey." She shook the woman's hand, but she was still skeptical.

"Heard you were in some kind of trouble," Gemma said. "Care to tell me?"

"I don't mean to be rude, but," she raised a brow, "I've just met you."

"Oh, don't worry," Gemma said and smirked. "I'll find out anyway."

"Then why did you ask?" She crossed her arms and leaned back against the back of the couch.

Gemma sat down where Chuck just had been. "Because I know my boys. They tend to make things worse than it is. Figured that if I heard it straight from the source, I could decide whether or not it is as bad as they say it is."

"It's bad, and that's all you need to know."

Gemma narrowed her eyes but kept the smirk. "You give your opinions quite strongly, I must say. Be careful with that. Strong women tend to get confused with stupid women."

Hailey clenched her jaw. "Is that a threat?"

"No, baby," Gemma said softly. "It's an advice."

"Thank you, but I think I can fend for myself." Again, Hailey didn't mean to be rude. This woman was obviously not a bad person, but she felt as if there were too many trying to get under her skin lately, so she needed thicker skin, fast.

"Alright, okay," Gemma said and nodded. "You need space, I get it." Then she stood up. "Well, if there's anything you need, Chibs got my number." She gave her a confident smile. "We girls have to stay together." Then she left.

Hailey watched as the door closed after Gemma, and she clenched her jaw. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad so have a female supporter in this sea of dumb macho men—with an exception of Chuck, that is, and, well, Chibs as well, though she liked to pretend he was just like the rest. That way she wouldn't have to fight a constant battle between prejudice and truth.

Shortly after, the double doors swung open, and the bikers welled out. She sought for some kind of sign from Chibs, something that would confirm she would be alright, but he didn't look her way. Instead, Bobby made his way over to her. He wore a smile, and it was no "sorry, but you're going to die"-smile, but a nice, genuine one.

"Hey there, darling," he said and sat down next to her. "How're the knees?"

"I'll live," she smiled back. "So… what did you guys decide?"

"You don't have to worry," he said softly. "We'll keep you safe."

"Safe as in 'we'll take you home' or safe as in 'we'll keep you in Chibs' apartment with a gun under your pillow, just in case'?" She already knew the answer to that; why would they let her go? She was worth a fortune. As the thought passed through her head, she wanted to laugh at it, at how ridiculous it sounded. Yes, she was worth about five billion dollars. However, that was just a theory. She hoped Chibs did stretch that part.

Bobby frowned apologetically, "I know it must be hard for you. But, you know, it's probably the safest place, anyway."

She just glared at him. No, she wasn't surprised. But she had things to do, places to go. Her nana was waiting for her, probably thinking the flight was cancelled or delayed. She was probably waiting for her to call. Soon enough she would call Hailey's parents, and they would try to reach her, and when they wouldn't succeed on doing that, they would call the police and report her as missing. Well, maybe that was a good thing?

"Do you have family here in California?" Bobby asked.

"Why do you wanna know?"

Bobby sighed and looked at her with this painful expression. "Because if you do, you would probably tell them to go away, go somewhere else. If Tyler decides to come after your family, well…"

Hailey froze for a second. She hadn't thought about that. She hadn't thought about that at all. It hurt, stinging her heart with a thousand needles, and she felt the panic creep slowly through her again. She locked her gaze on the table in front of her, feeling how she just wanted to disappear from this world, from this hell. But then she nodded. "I've got my nana here."

"They you should call her and tell her to find somewhere to hide. They can't call the police though; Craig Tyler's got friends in high places," Bobby said and gave her a phone. "I don't know if you've got one yourself, but it might be bugged. Use this."

She looked up at him. "Really?"

He smiled softly. "Go on. Tell her to get somewhere safe."

It warmed her heart a bit. None of the others had offered such a thing to her, and even though if might seem like a small thing, he entrusted her with a phone, a phone she could do anything with, if she'd like. She could call her professor, she could call Maggie, she could call her mother, and—had she been fooling them all along—she could call Craig Tyler. But he trusted her.

"Why don't you go outside and make the call?" he even said. "Juice will come with you, make sure nothing happens. Hey, Juice!"

A younger man, with a short cut Mohawk and tribal tattoos on his skull, hurried to Bobby's side. "Yeah?"

"You stick with Hailey," he ordered. "She's gonna call her family, tell them to hide somewhere safe."

Juice nodded, and as Bobby left them, he looked at Hailey, putting his hands on his hips nervously before letting them fall again.

Hailey stood up. "So, you're my guard dog?"

He chuckled. "Well, I—yeah. Hi, I'm Juice." He reached his hand out, and she took it.

"Hailey." She then looked at the phone in her hand. "Um… can we go outside? So I can make the call?"

"Yeah, of course!" Juice said and led the way.

Hailey followed. Well outside, Juice sat down on a picnic table while Hailey dialed the number and put the phone to her ear. The signals were sounding, but there was no answer. Several signals sounded, and Hailey was just about to give up when someone picked up the phone.

"_Hello?_" The sweet and comforting voice of her nana broke her, and she fell in tears.

"Nana?" she sobbed.

"_Hailey? Is that you?_"

"Yeah."

"_But_ _sweetheart, you're crying! Has something happened? Was the flight cancelled?_"

Hailey gave her a tearful chuckle. "No, it wasn't."

"_Well… where are you then? Is something wrong?_"

"Nana, there's—" She tried to compose herself, but found it hard. She took a deep breath. "I'm in a bit of trouble. But I'm okay. You don't have to worry about me. But you need to go away for a while. Go to Uncle Joey while this all blows over."

"_Oh, but my dear, I don't understand. Why would I do that?_" There was silence from both ends of the line for a moment. "_Is there someone after you?_" Nana was the cleverest woman in the world. Hailey nodded while bursting in tears once more, and even though her nana couldn't possibly know she was nodding, she still understood. She sighed. "_Are you safe?_"

"Yes!" Hailey wailed out. "But you aren't! Nana, you've gotta go to Joey's, okay! Please!" She was hysterical now, and she buried her face in her free hand.

"_Listen to me, Hailey,_" said her nana very seriously. "_Whatever is happening, you have to call the police. Do you hear me?_"

"I can't," Hailey breathed. "And neither can you. Nana, we can't trust anyone!"

Nana sighed deeply. "_Oh, my sweet baby, what have you done?_"

"I'm sorry," Hailey whispered. "I'm so sorry, nana. I've been so stupid."

"_You're never stupid, sweetheart_," said the old woman. "_You've got bad luck, that's all_."

"Please, nana, please! Go to Joey and Cara until this blows over!" she pleaded again.

"_Okay, okay, I'll go there tomorrow_," her nana said. "_If anyone tries anything before then, I'll keep my rifle with me._"

Hailey chuckled. She had forgotten about how hard boiled her nana could be. It was the Irish blood in her. "Thank you."

"_But you better tell me what's going on, Hailey_," her nana warned. "_If not now, then after_."

"I promise," Hailey sobbed. "I love you, nana."

"_I love you too, sweetheart_," said the old woman. "_Now, stop sobbing and use your brain. Be smart about this; there is always more than one way._"

"Yeah," Hailey nodded. "Say hello to Joey and Cara for me, would you? And please, don't tell them about any of this! Just tell him there was some change of plans."

"_Oh, you just trust me_," nana said, "_I'll figure something out. And you_, stay safe!"

"Yes, ma'am." They said their goodbyes and when they hung up, Hailey had to take a breather before she could call her parents. She sat down by the picnic table, and Juice slid down next to her.

"Are you alright?" He sounded genuinely worried, and Hailey looked up at him. He had kind eyes. He sort of reminded her of a puppy.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah, it's just… well, it's not every day you have to call your family and tell them you might get them killed."

"Yeah," Juice huffed. And then he sat there in silence.

It felt good, actually, to just have someone there. She didn't get the same vibe off of Juice as with the others, not even Bobby. Juice seemed to understand her, somehow, even if he, in reality, didn't. "Alright," she said and dried her face from tears. "I've gotta call mom. She's gonna be furious." She dialed the number, and her mother picked up rather quickly. She had been worried to death since Hailey hadn't called, and she hadn't made it to nana yet. Hailey explained that things had gotten complicated, and that people were after her. She didn't tell her about the accounts, she just said it had something to do with a couple of codes she deciphered. Her mother insisted on calling the police, and Hailey kept telling her that there might be corrupted officers that would turn on them, and her mother, just as her nana, asked what the hell she had been doing.

"_Your father is going to kill you_," her mother scowled.

"Well, tell him to get in line," Hailey muttered. "There are a few people ahead of him."

Finally, she succeeded in taking her mother over to at least talk to her father. For now, that was the least she could do. When they hung up, after several "I love you" and "be safe", Juice rose, ready to go back inside. But Hailey raised her hand. "I've got just one more call."

Juice nodded. "Okay."

Her heart raced as she dialed the number and then let the signals be the slow marching of judgment.

"_This is Margret Ellis_."

"Don't say a word, and for God's sake, don't say my name," Hailey instructed lowly. "It's me. Hailey." She could hear Maggie gasp in the phone, but she didn't say her name. "Say, 'Laura, what a surprise.'"

"_Oh, Laura! What a surprise!_" Maggie obeyed.

"If you're amongst others, walk away while you're talking casually as if you haven't met 'Laura' in a while. Try to get to somewhere no one will hear you."

"_God, it's been ages since we last spoke!_" Maggie said happily. She always had been a good actress. "_How's life? I mean, are you and Dan still going out? Aha… no, no, I won't graduate until next year—okay, I'm in the genitor's closet. Where the hell are you, Hal?! I've been trying to call you like fifty fucking times?! I even called your nana! What happened?_"

"What do you _think_ happened?!" Hailey spat. "Who the _fuck_ did you tell, Maggie?!"

"_No one!_" Maggie hissed. "_At least no one who didn't already know!_"

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

Maggie sighed heavily. "_I may have… well, I may have _mentioned_ it to Mr. Reins_."

Hailey clenched her jaw. She was weaving herself into some sort of complex net. "Why would you _do_ that?"

"_Look, some shit's going down_," Maggie said. "_Yesterday, Mr. Reins was found, dead_."

Hailey stopped breathing for a moment. Mr. Reins was dead? "What?"

"_He was shot. Hailey, what if those documents actually _are_ illegal?_"

"The documents aren't illegal," Hailey sighed, "but those who want them do illegal shit."

"_I'm really sorry, Hailey!_" Maggie cried. "_I didn't mean to say it, it just sort of slipped! But I swear, I _swear_, I haven't told anyone else!_"

Hailey sighed. "Look, you've gotta keep low for a while, okay? Pretend like you don't know me, or as if we've had a big fight and basically cut of our friendship. God knows that's what I _should_ do."

"_Hal, please_," Maggie pleaded. "_I'm so, so sorry! Where are you?_"

"Somewhere safe."

"_That doesn't tell me a shit_."

"It tells you I'm safe," Hailey muttered. "That's all you need to know." Hailey hung up. She didn't want to talk to the rat anymore. She had found out what she needed to find out, and she had said what she needed to say.

Juice looked at her with a pained expression. "That was brutal."

"She got what she deserved," Hailey muttered. "Let's go." She walked past him, feeling so angry and sad and betrayed and devastated and relieved, she didn't know whether to laugh or to cry.

**¤(SoA)¤**

"We're gonna start keeping her here during the days," Jax told Chibs while they stood at the bar. "That way we can all keep an eye on her, and that way I can keep you here."

"Aye," Chibs nodded. "Tha'll be best."

"And if you have to leave her at your place, send someone over," Jax ordered. "That could be Juice's way of redeeming himself."

Chibs clenched his jaw. The thought of the rat in his apartment made him cringe. "I'd rather teach the lass to use a gun herself."

Jax sighed. "You've gotta let it go, man. I have."

Chibs glared at his president. "I took tha' kid in. I gave him a life. I taught him everythin' I know, an' he goes behind my back?"

"He went behind all our backs," Jax pointed out.

Chibs looked away, afraid he might say something he'd regret. Jax didn't understand. No one understood. And he couldn't explain it, because it would just sound stupid. "Wha' about these accounts?"

"I've put Juice and Chucky on checking if her story is real," Jax said.

"An' if it is?" Chibs looked at Jax. "Wha' then? Tha's five billion dollars worth of ass." He motioned his head towards the redhead that just entered with Juice. "We'll be killin' ourselves if we try te protect tha'."

"Then we make sure no one but us knows about it." Jax took a handful of peanuts and shoved it into his mouth.

Chibs observed him, and then he got it, and he wasn't surprised. "Ye want tha' money fer us, don't ye?"

"Five billion dollars, that's a lot of money," Jax said. "With that kind of capital, we could quit this shit for good." With that, he shrugged and gave Chibs a pat on the shoulder before he left to have a word with Bobby, leaving Chibs divided as he glanced over at Hailey. He had promised not to hurt her, but he didn't know where this would lead.


	5. Good Seeds

**A/N: **Again, thank you all for all your lovely reviews! I hope I won't disappoint! Alright, so, it's time for chapter five, and _again,_ the title to this one is from the song _Thistle & Weeds_ by **Mumford and Sons** (I might use a lot of quotes by **Mumford and Sons**.. just sayin'..) and if you haven't heard it, go listen to it, and if you _have_ heard it,_ go listen to it_. It's one of their best songs, according to me, and is very underrated. It fits perfectly to the mood of this story, and I hope you'll enjoy it as I do! :)

Oh, and enjoy the chapter as well!

Peace!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Five**

"_Plant your hope with good seeds; don't cover yourself with thistle and weeds."  
_– _Thistle & Weeds, Mumford and Sons_

She enjoyed cooking. It was as if it was her way of forgetting the problems surrounding her, whether it was problems with her boyfriend or problems with some super mega mean gangster that wanted her dead. And Chibs' kitchen was very nice to cook in. It was a long time since she had cooked in a real kitchen, because the one in her dorm at campus wasn't really that good. She had been looking forwards to cooking with her nana, but since she couldn't do that, she had to make the best of the situation. Chibs had happily bought her the ingredients she needed, stating that nothing could compare to a woman's cooking. Hailey had taken that as a compliment and been content.

She was making lasagna, her nana's old recipe, and it was the first course she had ever learnt to make. While she was working away in the kitchen, Chibs was watching something on the Discovery Channel, once in a while commenting on that it smelled nice, and that he was starving. There was something different about him, she thought, as if he had had a change of heart about something, but she couldn't figure out what, because he was a complicated man. But he had been different since they returned from the club house. He had looked at her differently, almost painfully. She had wanted to ask, but she was rather satisfied with just focusing on the food. Anything to keep her thoughts away from Maggie and Mr. Reins, her nana and her parents… so she made lasagna.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and Hailey flinched, but instinctively, she went to open it. But Chibs was quick on his feet, and had bounced up from the sofa and darted to the door, pushing Hailey back towards the kitchen before she could reach it, while loading his gun and come to a stand next to the door. He glared at her, motioning her to be silent.

It knocked again. "_It's Gemma!_"

Chibs rolled his eyes as he relaxed, put the gun away and opened the door. "Jesus Christ, woman! I was ready te shoot ye!"

Gemma looked up at him with a scowl. "Good thing you didn't then." Then her face softened. "Hi, sweetie." She gave him a peck on the cheek and entered the apartment. She was carrying bags in her hands, and she looked around. "Wow, it smells amazing!"

"I'm making lasagna," Hailey said, shifting awkwardly from one foot to another.

Gemma nodded impressed. "Well, would you look at that? It's not so bad having a woman around, now is it, Chibby dear?" She turned to Chibs with a smirk, but he just huffed, rolled his eyes and returned to the TV. Gemma walked up to Hailey by the stove. "It really does smell amazing."

"Thanks," Hailey said shortly. "It's my nana's recipe."

Gemma nodded. Then she held the bags up. "I got you some clothes. Figured your baggage didn't include that."

Hailey blinked sheepishly as she looked at the bags and then at Gemma. Had she spent money on her? Really? "I—I—no… um, I didn't really get the chance to pick it up at the airport…"

"I figured as much," Gemma smiled. "Now, come on, let's try 'em on."

Hailey was still surprised, and a bit speechless. "Oh, well… I just—let me just put this in the oven."

"I can help you with that."

As Gemma helped Hailey, without asking difficult questions or giving her snide comments, she felt ashamed for being rude earlier. Still, she couldn't understand why this woman wanted to help her. All Hailey really was, was a burden. But as the lasagna was put in the oven, Gemma motioned Hailey to follow her to the bedroom, and closed the door after them.

"Chibs is a sweetheart letting you take the bed like this," Gemma said, mostly to herself, it seemed, and tipped her head aside as she stood looking at the bed. "Oh well, I figured you were more of a jeans girl than a skirt girl, so I bought you a pair of new shorts, and two regular jeans." She emptied a bag on the bed and three pair of jeans fell out. "I hope they'll fit you, but I have a pretty good eye for things like that. Oh, and I bought you a couple of shirts. Some flannels, some tops, and I brought one of my old jackets. Figured you needed one. I got you some underwear as well. Again, I hope it fits." She emptied another bag onto the bed with several shirts, some underwear and an old, worn leather jacket. "You know what, keep the jacket. My closet is filled as it is."

"Wow…" It was all she could say. She just stared at the pile of clothes on the bed, and felt a strange sensation of gratitude and suspicion. She clenched her jaw and shifted before she looked at Gemma. "Why are you doing this?"

"I'm taking care of my family," Gemma answered, and there was a hint of pride in her voice.

"But… well, I'm not, so…?"

"I know, baby," Gemma said and sat down on the bedside. "But if taking care of my family means taking care of you, then that's what I'll do."

Hailey just stared at her. There was honesty in her voice, almost like a cold professionalism, and at once, she had more respect for the woman, and she nodded. "Alright. Well, thanks. Really, I mean it."

"No problem," Gemma nodded. "Oh, and I bought you some lady shit as well, stuff I doubt Chibs would want to buy for you."

Hailey felt her cheeks burn as Gemma handed over a bag of toilet requisites, and the respect suddenly rose to the skies. Oh, she wasn't in any way embarrassed about having special needs once every month, but, well, it wasn't really something she was comfortable talking about with men she barely knew. "Thank you."

Gemma smiled. "You're welcome. Now, try something on! I wanna make sure it fits."

Hailey dug through the pile. She was very impressed; Gemma had been spot on almost all the sizes. The bras seemed a little too big, but it probably wouldn't be that big a difference, really. She took out a pair of jeans and a green flannel shirt.

"I thought that color would go perfectly with your hair," Gemma said, pointing at her shirt. "I love your hair. Irish?"

"Actually, yes," Hailey said as she started to change. "Um… my maternal grandparents both came here from Ireland during the forties, and dad's grandparents were Irish immigrants around the turn of the century."

"So, you're Irish bred, through and through," Gemma smiled. "I'm Irish and Russian."

Hailey nodded. "Cool." She put the jeans on, and while they were a bit too tight, she knew they would stretch out eventually. The green shirt, though, fit perfectly. "Wow, you really _do_ have an eye for this shit."

Gemma laughed. "So I've been told." She then rose. "Well, looks like it fits. My work here is done. I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart." She opened the door to leave.

"Wait, Gemma?" Hailey suddenly called, and Gemma turned. "Um… would you like to stay for some lasagna?"

Gemma smiled. "Thanks, but I've already eaten. But why don't you save me some, yeah?"

Hailey nodded. "Okay. Well, thanks again."

"No problem," Gemma said. "And remember; if there's anything you need, just give me a call." She then turned and headed for the door. "Bye, darling!" she called to Chibs.

"Bye, love!" he called back.

As the door closed, Hailey remained in the room for a moment, looking at the clothes on her bed. Maybe, just maybe, she had actually been lucky, for once in her life?

**¤(SoA)¤**

The smell was tearing him apart. He hadn't smelt such delicious food in a long time; not even Gemma's food smelled this good. When Gemma had left, he actually shared that opinion with Hailey, who blushed a bit but then commented back, saying, "well, you'll find that most of what I do are a little bit better than what everyone else does," in that very bold way she always expressed her opinions. She was wearing the clothes Gemma had bought, and the green shirt hugged the girl at the right places, and Chibs had to make an effort not stare inappropriately, especially when the woman was handling his food. He knew better. But as she took out the lasagna from the over, Chibs leaned against the island and tipped his head. "Ye look nice, love."

Without turning from the stove, she huffed after a moment, "no, you're not getting dessert."

Not knowing whether she was sarcastic, or cryptic, or simply just thinking his compliment had an ulterior motive, he chuckled. "Well, it was worth a try. Ye do look nice, though."

"Yeah," she sighed as she turned, a sarcastic frown spoiling her pretty face. "I don't know what it is, though! I suppose it's my irresistible charm, my witty arrogance, my tendency to prove how stupid people really are and my cynical death wish that never really seems to hit home. To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't jumped me before." Sarcasm poisoned her words, and even though Chibs was a patient man, he was growing rather sick of it. It was as if she was trying to hide something—an anger, a fear, a dream, anything—from the world, and the only way she knew how was to use her academic knowledge to bring other people down, because frankly, sarcasm was the only way to offend stupid people without them knowing it. Unfortunate then for her that Chibs wasn't stupid.

"Actually," he said and shrugged, "I was jus' referring te yer clothes, love."

She glared at him, and then she sighed deeply, frustratedly, before shaking her head, and simply walking away, slamming the door to the bedroom behind her.

Chibs sighed heavily and closed his eyes. He had to chant in his head, "be patient," but he was tired, and still hungry. The finished lasagna stood on the stove, piping and simmering. It looked absolutely perfectly delicious, but he sighed again, dreading to unravel what had just gone down, but being the painfully conscientious man that he was, he had to if he was going to get any sleep that night. Why had the girl reacted like that? What was the reason? Did he do something wrong, and if so, what did he do? Reluctantly, he came to a stand by the closed door. He rapped lightly.

"_Go away_." She sounded upset.

"Did I say somethin' wrong, love?"

"_No, just leave me alone_."

"Come on, the food looks delicious," he said, trying to make her feel better. "Let's eat, yeah?"

"_You eat_," she said. "_I'm not really hungry anymore_."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, c'mon, love! Don' be like tha'!"

She didn't answer. Chibs leaned against the wall and waited, but she remained silent for a good two minutes. Finally, he rapped again, this time harder. "_I said 'leave me alone'! What are you? Retarded?_"

Chibs clenched his jaw and threw the door open. He had had enough of that attitude of hers.

She was sitting on the bed, leaning against the frame, but just as he entered, she pulled herself closer to the frame, gasping and turning white. "I'm sorry!"

"Ye're getting' on me last nerve, lass," he growled and pointed a finger at her. But his face softened as he clearly could see she had been crying. He sighed. "I'm tryin' te help ye! Wha's eatin' ye?" There was a second he thought he could actually see all of the thoughts going through her mind before her face turned into a painful frown, and she burst into tears. Another heavy sigh; he had no idea what to do. He sat down on the bedside, without speaking, and just let the girl cry. They sat like that for a while, and when her cries had calmed down to sobs, he looked at her. "Ye want te tell me wha's goin' on?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I just… looking at that _fucking_ lasagna made me think of nana." Then she looked up at him, with those tearful, blue eyes—oh, they could break his heart. She told him all about her calls to her family, about her best friend ratting her out, and about how she had to compel her grandmother to go into hiding. "What if they'll find her? What if—what if they'll kill her? Chibs, what if they'll kill nana?" Her lower lip shook once more, and tears started to well out of her eyes again.

Instinctively, he reached to hold her. "No, no! Don' worry, love! It's not goin' te happen!" Even though he took the initiative, he was surprised she didn't resist his embrace, but simply cried against his chest. Something stirred inside of him. Was it the feeling of doing something good for someone in need? Was it the feeling of comforting someone sad? Or was it the feeling of a pretty girl in his arms? Chibs didn't know, and Chibs didn't care. Instead, he simply rubbed her back while letting her cry. Her whole life had been put upside-down in a matter of days, and if anyone could relate to that, it was Chibs.

Five minutes passed. Maybe more. At least she was back to sobbing again, when Chibs' stomach made a loud reminder of how empty it was. The girl against his chest laughed.

"Sorry," she said and pulled away, drying her eyes. "I forgot you were hungry."

"Aye. Bet tha' lasagna has cooled enough to be eaten, eh?" Chibs chuckled, and she nodded.

The food was delicious, it really was, and Chibs couldn't help but to wonder if there was anything this girl couldn't do, except being delicate at certain times. They didn't talk much, but they both enjoyed the silence. It wasn't until afterwards, when the dished had been done and the left-overs been packed into boxes and put into the freezer; Chibs was careful with money—he was a Scotsman, for Christ's sake! He even had to explain it to her when she raised a brow when he picked out those plastic boxes.

"I never waste," he said and shrugged. "We'll bring some te the club house tomorro'."

Hailey laughed. She was clearly feeling better, but there was still a sad shadow in her face. She then shook her head, and groaned. "Oh, God, I need… I need a drink. You don't happen to have any wine, do you?"

Chibs huffed. "Wine is fer pussies." He quickly raised his palms in surrender and added, though with a smirk playing across his lips, "no pun intended." When a tired smile relaxed her face, he went on to his liquor cabinet. "I've got much better stuff, trust me." He brought out a flask of -92 Mortlach Whisky, and nodded smugly.

Hailey however, looked doubtful. "Sorry… I'm not a big fan of whisky."

Chibs rolled his eyes. This was some good shit, this was quality whisky, and the girl turned it down. He poured himself a glass before putting the flask back to the cabinet. "Right, well, I'll get ye yer wine, darlin'."

**¤(SoA)¤**

She was watching, with the embarrassment yet passion of a teenager it seemed, as Chibs was doing his sit-ups in the living-room the next morning. Even though she hated herself for it, she had become like a star struck teenager the night before when he had embraced her to comfort her, and after that, she hadn't been quite the same. She was still sad, she was still pissed off and she was still blaming it all on her bad luck, and now another negative had joined the equation; the knot that formed inside her belly whenever the Scotsman spoke to her, looked at her or did anything else where she could see him—hell, she could barely stop thinking about him. However, Hailey knew it was just a matter of time before she went back to feeling more loathing than… well, other stuff… towards him. She had to remind herself that she was in a weak state, and because of it, she was more likely to fall for shit like the trick he pulled last night, as would any human. She wasn't ungrateful in any way—at the moment she most certainly needed it. It was the aftermath she did not appreciate. If she could turn off her stupid, female idiocy shit feelings, she would be just fine, but as it was, she couldn't. So, she simply had to live through a day or two with butterflies constantly in her belly, before she would fuck things up once more, and he would show his true colors. It was just a matter of time. So for now, she had to put up with blushing and feeling very ridiculous as she watched him work out while the Stones were plying loudly on the stereo.

Even though the aftermath of yesterday could have been better, nothing was as good as knowing that she didn't have to walk around in her dirty clothes any longer. Thank God for Gemma. She could take a shower, she could feel fresh again, and once she'd done that, she decided to raid though Chibs' bookshelves to see if there was _anything_ worth reading there. She was surprised—and because of her stupid butterfly filled belly, also weirdly delighted—to find many fine pieces of literature amongst his possessions. Finally, after much more picking and choosing than she'd expected, she picked out _Of Mice and Men_ by Steinbeck, and was then ready to go with Chibs to the garage. When he had made sure, though, that all of the books was in their right place, they left the apartment, and as they made their rather short trip through town, Hailey fought the urge to just squeeze him tight and press her cheek against his back. She couldn't do that; that would be weird. Besides, it was only because of her fragile state, and she would regret it later. So she didn't, even though it was tempting. She was relieved when she was allowed to get off and actually get away from him, let her belly rest. She found Juice in the garage, working away on a car.

"Hi," she called, and he looked up.

His puppy eyes narrowed as he smiled. "Hey!" Fumbling, he left the car engine to lean against the side of the car. "How're you doing?"

"Fine," she sighed. "I had a little melt-down last night." She took a seat on a heap of tires.

"Yeah," he said as he crossed his arms. "That shit about your best friend… that's horrible."

She nodded. "Yeah, it is." She furrowed her brows while she looked out over the parking lot. "I don't really know what bothers me the most; the fact that she betrayed me, or the fact that she might be in danger. I mean, I've never felt this betrayed before, and yet… well, I love her! I don't want her to be hurt."

A sadness seemed to cover Juices face as he looked away and clenched his jaw. He then nodded and let his head fall. "Yeah. I… think I know what you mean."

"You've been betrayed?" Her voice was soft; there was something as broken as her about him.

Another pained expression. "Not… necessarily. Um… but I've done some bad shit myself to those I love." He didn't meet her eyes as he took a ragged breath and went back to mending the car. "So, you drive?"

Hailey furrowed her brows, a bit confused. "Yeah. Well, no. The thing is, I don't have a car, so I basically haven't been driving since I started at Harvard."

"Right, I almost forgot," he said with a half-heartedly crooked smile. "You're one of those girls."

"What do you mean 'those girls'?" she huffed and smiled.

"Well, you know," he said and shrugged, "the educated ones. The smart ones. The ones that would never settle for a life like this."

Hailey chuckled. "Well, you know, people like me often seek confirmation that will validate their intelligence. Hence, in your way of seeing things, my ego would best thrive in environments like this."

Juice laughed. "See, I got about half of what you just said."

Hailey smiled and tipped her head. "My point exactly. No, seriously, I think you're exaggerating."

"No, I'm an idiot," Juice said. "Ask anyone."

"Why are you being so mean to yourself, Juice?" Again, she had a feeling he was broken.

"I once drugged a Doberman with crank, which later ate half of Tig's ass," he said and raised an eyebrow. "Is that a definition of intelligence to you?"

No matter how broken he might be, she couldn't contain herself, and started laughing. "You did _what_? Why?!"

He huffed loudly. "It's a long story. Let's just forget about it."

"Eh, I think _not_!" Hailey chuckled. "That's a story you've got to share."

"No," Juice spat and furrowed his brows. "That's history. _Old_ history."

Hailey chuckled again and shook her head as she opened the book she had brought with her.

"What book is that?" Juice asked.

"It's _Of Mice and Men_ by John Steinbeck," Hailey said. "I borrowed it from Chibs. Have you read it?"

"God no," Juice chuckled and came to lean again the side again. "I'm not much of a reader. I mean, I _can_ read!"

Hailey smiled. "I believe you."

"I just… don't, you know," he said and shrugged.

Hailey looked at the cover of the book, pondered over the title, and then she looked at Juice. "You know what, why don't you read it? I've read it several times. I bet I can find something else in Chibs' bookshelf; the man's got one hell of a selection, alright!"

Juice furrowed his brows in what seemed like wonder and horror. "Are you crazy? You can't lend out Chibs' things—he will kill you, slowly. Trust me, I know the man."

She raised an eyebrow. "It's a book. Besides, I don't think he will mind when he realizes it's for educational purposes."

"Ouch," he chuckled.

She rose and walked up to him. "Here. Take it. Read it. I think you'll like it."

"What is it about?"

"Just read it, will you," Hailey said while rolling her eyes. "I'll deal with Chibs if he gives you any shit."

He smiled while he tipped his head to the side. "You've got one hell of an attitude, did you know that? I mean, I think it's awesome! It's like… it's like you take this whole situation and decides that it won't bring you down. You're fearlessly sassy, something there aren't a lot of girls who are towards us. I think it's… kind of hot, actually."

Hailey chuckled. "Are you _flirting_ with me, Juice?"

He laughed nervously as he dropped his head and kicked on the ground. "See, now I don't really know what answer to give you, 'cause I'm a bit scared of you." Both of them laughed, and just like that, the embarrassment was over. He took the book and turned it his hands before giving it back t her. He told her to be careful with it, and it was probably more likely that Juice was going to be more careful with it than Hailey.

It felt nice, that she could connect so quickly to Juice. She guessed he was a bit older than she was, but not more than… seven years, maybe? She had a feeling he was a bit of an outsider, considering the way she had seen Chibs and Jax and Bobby act around him, as if they had something against him, and he ran about them with his tail between his legs. She felt sorry for him, and if some kind of mother instinct took her over, she wanted to take care of him. They talked for a long while, about everything that had nothing to do with the situation they were in. They swapped High School stories, and in the end, he actually told her about the Doberman incident, causing her to laugh so violently, she actually cried.

"Yeah, yeah, you laugh," he sneered. "Wait until you see Tig's reaction each time you say the word 'Doberman'."

"Oh, trust me, I'll try it." It was strange; all of a sudden, she had almost forgotten about why she was there in the first place, because people actually seemed to care about her. Chibs had comforted her, Gemma had bought her clothes, Juice had entertained her… would they do that if they wanted her dead? Maybe she was starting to catch the Stockholm Syndrome? Or maybe they were just trying to win her over so that they could use her to get to the money? Bitterness stained her mind, and she sighed heavily. Why did she always do that? And now, when she was having such a good time and all?

"What's wrong?" Juice asked and frowned worriedly.

"Nothing," Hailey said and shook her head. "I just… remembered all the bad shit, and that's kind of a buzz kill."

"Yeah," he snorted. "Major buzz kill."

"I'm… I'm gonna let you continue working," she said sighed. "Here." She shoved the book into his hands. "Read it, and tell me later what you thought of it. Might change your life."

"But, what are you gonna do?"

She smiled. "Maybe I can listen to Chucky recite some more Shakespeare for me. "

"Yeah, okay," Juice chuckled and nodded. Then he smiled iffily. "I'll… I'll read it."

Hailey hesitated before she left him. "Look, whatever you did to your loved ones, I'm sure they'll forgive you sooner or later."

He gave her a heartbroken smile. "I guess time will tell."

She nodded. "I guess. Anyways, thanks for cheering me up."

"Anytime."

She smiled, and felt an incredible relief as she realized that she actually believed him.


	6. Cobwebs

**A/N: **Well, according to the pattern I've made, it's apparently time for another chapter. Honestly, I'm surprised at myself. I've never updated this frequently before.. a heads up; I don't know how long it will last.

Anyways, chapter six is here. This time, the title comes from _Promises_ by **The Cranberries**, an awesome song by an awesome band. Go listen to it, right away. Chop-chop! You can listen to it while reading the chapter! :D

Again, I'd like to thank you all for the reviews! I think it's important for me to do so, so you all know they are very appreciated! :)

And now, if you've had the time and made the effort of reading through this author's note, please,

_enjoy! _

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Six**

"_Leave the cobwebs in the closet, 'cause tearing them out is just not right."  
_— _Promises, The Cranberries_

He had been watching. While Tig was going on and on about the woman he'd slept with last night, Chibs had been watching closely as Juice and Hailey had been talking. He hadn't heard anything they'd said, but they had laughed, and for some reason, it enraged him. He didn't think Juice deserved to laugh. He didn't deserve to derail from his miserable pain. He did not deserve the company of such a pretty and smart woman as Hailey.

_Chibs, ye ol' fool, are ye jealous?_ Said a voice in his head, but he rapidly decided against it. Jealous of what? He just didn't think Juice deserved to enjoy himself, until he'd paid his dues. Though, Chibs couldn't deny he wouldn't enjoy making the girl smile like that. She had a beautiful smile, and he would like to see it more often. A genuine smile, not that sarcastic smile she so often showed him. He watched as Hailey handed over Chibs' book—_his_ book—to Juice before she went inside, and he clenched his jaw. She even glanced back at him. Furious, he returned to the car.

"Those two were really hitting it off," Tig commented; he had been watching as well, while talking. "You think she's Old Lady-material? Maybe this is Juice's time, you know."

Chibs glared back at him, but instead of answering, he sighed and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lighted it.

"Man, you've been hard on him lately," Tig said and crossed his arms. "What's going on?"

Again, Chibs didn't answer.

"Oh, I know," Tig sneered. "You're jealous. But I get it. A young, hot chick in your apartment… man, if I were you, I'd be turned on _all the time_." He then shifted and gestured with his hands, the shaped of her body. "You know, the things I would do to her—oh, the _things_!"

Chibs nodded sarcastically while furrowing his brow. "Aye, and afterwards, she'd trap ye in her big, fat web an' eat ye alive."

"That… would be totally hot," Tig said, his eyes dreaming, far away in some dirty fantasy of his.

Chibs however, shook his head and returned to the motor. "Yeah, ye wouldn' stand a day with tha' girl."

"C'mon, it can't be _that_ bad?" Tig huffed amusedly.

Chibs looked at him with a raised brow. "No, 'cause it's absolutely brilliant havin' someone who constantly whines, complains, makes sarcastic remarks an' offends ye in every way. I'm tellin' ye, tha' girl's mouth is the thing tha's gonna get her killed, an' I won' be surprised if it's me who does it."

"Shit, man," Tig chuckled. "She sounds… delightful." He looked over at Juice. "She didn't seem to offend him much, though."

"The lad's too dumb to know when she does."

"I don't know, man," Tig sighed. "As I said, they seemed to be hitting it off. Give it a week, maybe two, and shit will happen."

Chibs puffed out cigarette smoke and then returned to the engine, determined to end this conversation. Maybe it was because he knew, deep down, that Tig was right, and maybe it was because it bugged him. He didn't know.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Chuck did not recite any more Shakespeare to Hailey, though the two of them engaged in a very interesting discussion on the man, causing both Jax and Gemma to raise their brows as they passed them by. Hailey didn't care, but it made Chuck very nervous. In the end, Hailey told him it was okay. He could go and do what he was supposed to do, and when he did, she suddenly felt very alone. Finally, she decided to look around a bit. She went through the corridors, looked into the rooms, and several made her wrinkle her nose. Some of them were just very dirty while some smelled of grease and sex. She did not want to know in detail what these rooms were used for. She headed back to the bar, which was empty. Carefully, she made her way into the room the guys called "the Chapel". It was a fairly small room, with a big, wooden table in the middle and chairs surrounding it. There was a strange vibe coming off of it, and even though she knew she probably wasn't supposed to be in there, she still went to the head chair and picked up the gavel. The club was old and worn and so was the brick on which it hit. She wondered just how many deaths that gavel was responsible for. She wondered just how many people Chibs had killed. Suddenly, she heard the door to the club house open, and she heard voices. Quickly, she placed the club back where she'd taken it, and hurried out the chapel. With her head lowered, she passed Bobby and a man she'd heard be named Happy, and they both greeted her with a smile, and she smiled back before fleeing back into the garage. The first ones she saw were Chibs and Tig working away on a car, and she slowly walked up to them and leaned against a pillar. "Hey guys."

"Hey, darling," Tig smiled and eyed her hungrily. He did that a lot. She did not like it.

"Hey Tig," she said. "How's the ass? Met any Dobermans lately?"

He sneered. "So, he told you about that, did he?"

She set her face cold. "Yeah, he did." She could hear Chibs chuckle while lying underneath the car, and she smirked self-righteously.

"You wanna see it?" Oh, he was challenging her, was he now?

"Thanks for the offer," she said, "but you've gotta learn to leave it behind."

He laughed smugly as he walked past her. "Chicken. You thought you'd win this one, didn't you?" He kept laughing smugly as he walked towards the club house.

"Oh, but I did," she called after him, and was very pleased when he huffed and slammed the door shut. "I totally won that one." Chibs rolled out from beneath the car, and she couldn't deny the raw attractiveness of a man covered with motor oil, though she had no idea where that came from. She had never found that attractive before. Stupid fragile state.

"Aye," he said and rose, "but wha' is a victory when yer opponent isn' beaten?"

"Oh, he will get it soon enough," she said. "Thought I'd keep it simple enough."

"'Leave it behind'?" he asked and raised a brow. "He'll never get tha'."

"But you do," she acknowledged. "That means my victory is admitted by a non-participant, hence it's valid."

He shook his head and lighted a cigarette while leaning against the car. He looked at her and exhaled a cloud of smoke. "How's it goin' with tha' book ye brought?"

She clenched her jaw. Hearing Juice warn her about Chibs' obsessive behavior of his possessions, she didn't know if she dared to tell him. But lying wouldn't really help. "Actually, I gave it to Juice. Can you believe it? He's never read Steinbeck!" Slither, slither, slither…

He glared at her. "Ye know—"

"I know, I know," she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Your shit is your shit. I get it."

"Then why did ye lend it te him?"

"Well, you lend it to me."

He chuckled, though darkly. "Love, ye study literature. Juice hasn' touched a book since he went te High School. There's a difference there."

"He also respects you more than I do," she challenged. "Look, it's a _book_! If he breaks it you can just buy another one. It's like, what, seven dollars?"

He just looked at her, and for a moment, she just wanted to hide to avoid any awkwardness if her cheeks decided to burn, which they were likely to do.

But instead, she stared boldly back. "What do you guys have against him?"

"Nothin'."

"He sees himself as an idiot," she pointed out, feeling how she almost became mad at him.

"He is an idiot," Chibs said plainly. "He cranked a Doberman, didn' he?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well, drugging a guard dog with meat is stupid in general, and I don't think it was his idea, am I right?"

Chibs sighed. "Wha' are ye doin' here?"

"I'm bored," Hailey shrugged.

"Ye brought tha' on yerself," Chibs pointed out.

"Well, excuse me if I wanted to be helpful," she muttered.

Chibs didn't answer her, but returned to the car, cigarette smoke surrounding him as he ducked in under the hood.

"So… what are you doing?" Hailey didn't know much about cars, but an awkward silence was something she hated.

"I am repairin' an automobile," he sighed.

Hailey rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, I can see that. I mean, what's wrong with it?"

He straightened, flipped his hair out of his eyes and glared at her with a raised eyebrow. "The emission control device is wacked, the transmission is gone an' the radiator is shite. I've got some plates te change an' the bearin' is all out, plus the ignition ain' workin'."

Hailey nodded as if she understood, but in reality, she understood what ignition, radiator and transmission meant, nothing else. He turned again, and she hesitated before she decided to peek over his shoulder in under the hood. The smell of him made her knees weak, and again, she cursed herself. But the smell of oil, cigarette, him… he turned slightly, and she took a step back.

"It's okay," he told her, and then he motioned her to come closer. He pointed into the mess of tubes and metal. "I'm checkin' so tha' there isn' anythin' wrong with the engine."

"Yeah, 'cause that would make it a pile of shit, now wouldn't it?" She didn't mean to be sarcastic; why did she always do that?!

But Chibs huffed a laugh and inhaled from his cigarette. "Aye," he said, breathing out a thick cloud of smoke. "Tha' would make it a pile o' shite."

Hailey smiled, the butterflies in her belly going completely crazy, and she leaned against the car's front while Chibs continued working next to her. "How long have you been a mechanic?"

"Fer a while," was his only answer.

Hailey snorted. "A while? And what is 'a while'?"

Chibs sighed. "I don' know, love. I've been mendin' cars since I was a lad, alrigh'?"

"When did you move from Scotland?" She crossed her arms to seem relaxed, in a desperate attempt of not blushing, or grinning silly or embarrass herself in any other way.

"I haven' lived in Scotland fer a long time," he said.

"Well, your accent seems pretty set," she established. "How come?"

He sighed heavily and straightened to look at her. "Wha' is this? An interrogation?"

She raised her palms. "I was just making conversation."

He sighed again while returning to checking the car engine. "I moved from Glasgow te Belfast when I was thirteen. Happy?"

"No, I'm Hailey."

Chibs rolled his eyes, but could hold back a smile. "Ye're gettin' blunt, love."

"What, I thought that was good joke?" she smiled. "So, why did you move to Belfast?"

With another heavy, yet amused sigh, he straightened and leaned his one arm against the front, seemingly annoyed, and looked at her with challenging eyes. "Me da got a job there."

"What job?"

"He was a doctor."

"And your mom?"

"A teacher."

"Did you wanna become any of that?"

"Aye."

"What?"

"A doctor."

"Did you?"

"I'm a mechanic."

With every answer, Hailey got more intense, and with every question, so did Chibs, and they even seemed to close in on each other, as if they were uncertain whether to strangle one another or do… something completely different.

"You didn't even _try_ to pursue it?"

"I served as Medic in the British Army."

"Is that how you got your scars?" She had narrowed her eyes, and he had clenched his jaw.

"No."

"How did you get them, then?"

He paused, glaring bitterly at her, while making her doubt herself. "One Halloween, I decided te be a clown."

She was taken aback. Not because she was in any way chocked, but because she understood he was using her own trick against her. Then she raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Got a little carried away there, did we?"

"Aye," he sneered smugly and eyed her for a moment, causing her to feel both uncomfortable and flattered, the tension almost unbearable. "Ye should go do somethin' useful, love. If ye've given tha' book te Juice, ye might as well teach him how te read." And with that, he turned back to the engine and ignored her.

Hailey swallowed, before she hesitantly left him and headed back to the club house, faster and faster with every step she took. Her heart was racing and her legs were trembling. What _was_ that?! She wanted to turn around and have one last glance of him before she closed the door, but changed her mind just as Juice greeted her.

"Hi, where've you been?" he asked. "I've been looking for you."

"Oh, I—what?" she knew her cheeks were burning now. She just knew it.

Juice seemed just as confused as she felt. "Well, I figured you might be hungry… lunch?"

"Oh!" she gasped in relief. "Yeah, sure. Um, I was just out talking to Chibs."

"Okay." Juice motioned Hailey to follow, which she did, and together they went into the kitchen. It was a rather small kitchen, but nice nonetheless. She supposed this was Chuck's domain, and therefore, she wasn't that surprised to find it a bit cleaner than the rest of the club house. Juice opened the fridge and sighed. "What to eat? What to eat?"

"There's lasagna in the freezer," Hailey said, still a bit shaken and confused after what had happened in the garage. "I made it last night."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Juice groaned.

"What, you don't like lasagna?"

"Are you fucking insane?" Juice laughed. "I love it!" He took out one of the plastic boxes and reheated it in the microwave. They split the portion, and Hailey was so relieved she found Juice, and she let him just wash her over with stories while slowly chewing on the lasagna, trying to forget about what had happened today between her and Chibs.

**¤(SoA)¤**

His jaw was firmly set as he worked away on the car. First the ignition and then the transmission. He could still feel the closeness of her, still feel her scent, still see those intense, blue eyes in front of him, as he vigorously turned screw nuts and disconnected and reconnected wires. _Got a little carried away there, did we? _He could see her full lips move as the words came out of her mouth, softly, alluringly, and he huffed. What was the matter with him? He couldn't decide whether or not he hated the girl, so why the bloody hell did she affect him so?

Bobby came by and fetched him to go and get something to eat, but Jax caught up with them, claiming he had something important to tell them.

"I got a call from Damon Pope," he said. "He said he wants to meet, settle this Tyler thing."

Bobby and Chibs exchanged looks.

"Did he… did he say something else?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah," Jax sighed. He looked at both of them and shifted from one foot to another. "He said he'd call Tyler to the same meeting."

"We've got five billion dollars he thinks of as his," Chibs said.

"She's not money, Chibs," Bobby sighed. "And we're not even sure if she's right."

"Yeah, Bobby's right," Jax said. "Though, we don't know what Tyler's relation to this girl is. If her story is real, that would give him a motive of kidnapping her."

"Look, I've been thinking; maybe the girl is his daughter, or something?" Bobby suggested. "Maybe all this was just a plan to get to us? Using The Righteous, letting them trash Nero's which would lead us to them, they kidnapping her for us to find… what if was all a set-up? We know he wants Charming."

Chibs clenched his jaw. It wasn't unlikely. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. The girl was playing them all. But why?

"That's… that's a dangerous assumption, man," Jax said.

"So is believin' she's got the keys te billions o' dollars," Chibs muttered.

"Okay," Jax sighed. "Let's say she's faking it; what threat is she to us when we keep her under strict supervision? I mean hard core supervision; no phones, no computers, no interactions with people she can use, not letting her near any sort of weaponry."

"She's sharp," Chibs said. "I think if she's playin' us, she's playin' us good."

Again, Jax sighed. "Okay… look, let's just get through this meeting, look for some leads. We don't even know who this Tyler guys is. Meanwhile, I'll ask mom to dig a bit. No one fools her."

Bobby nodded, but Chibs clenched his jaw again, feeling tricked, fooled, deceived. He grudgingly wondered how he was going to handle this; if he was going to confront her, threaten her if he had to, or if he was going to be smart about it, seem all blue eyed to her games and then stab her in the back. He wondered why he hadn't thought about this himself; but he guessed he had been fooled by her tearful, blue eyes and her pretty face. He assumed Bobby wouldn't even consider it if he was the one keeping her safe. The more he thought about it, the more aggravated he got. He thought about her asking him about what he knew of Tyler, about his past, about him shooting the skinheads… she was playing him, like a fucking mandolin. However, he had an advantage now, knowing about her game. All he had to do was to figure out what game _he_ was going to play.

"When's the meeting?" Bobby asked.

"Tomorrow," Jax said. "At noon."

"Right," Chibs said and lit another cigarette, trying to hide his anger and disappointment.

"Boys, I wanna keep this between us, okay?" Jax said. "The rest will know about the meeting, but not about what we just said about Hailey."

Chibs and Bobby agreed.

"Chibs, I want you to dig around a bit more, see what you can find out," Jax ordered. "Be smart about it; she can't suspect anything."

He blew out some smoke and nodded. "Ye can count on me, Jackie-boy."

**¤(SoA)¤**

The lasagna in her belly turned over and over again as she laughed so hard she was crying while Juice told her about the time he woke up outside the police station in a diaper and with a pacifier.

"Yeah, you laugh," he said. "I had a sore back for a _week _after that, _and _I was called 'Baby Juice' for at least a year."

"Aw, but I think that's sweet," she jeered. "Little Baby Juice!"

"Oh, just shut up, Jessica Rabbit," Juice mocked back.

"I knew I shouldn't have told you about that," she said as she hid her face in her hands, referring to the story she told him about when she went to this sorority party she thought was one of the university's "slut-it-up" masquerade—which actually turned out to be a baseball party—and came dressed as Jessica Rabbit. "Well, the boys didn't mind."

"Oh, I'm sure they didn't," Juice said. "Sure there aren't any pictures of that online?"

"I am sure," she nodded calmly. "I made sure of it."

They spoke for a while before Juice was called back to work, and Hailey was left alone, again. She poured herself a cup of coffee and watched as the mechanics and the costumers came and went, and whenever Chibs came into view, she couldn't help but to blush, but each and every time, she rolled her eyes at herself and her stupid fragile state. Though, she wasn't sure she could actually blame the incident earlier on her fragile state, because she was very well aware of what she was doing, and when she came to think of it, there were no butterflies then, but a strong pull, almost electrical. But she shook her head. No, it was all because of her state. For God's sake, he was probably double her age! He was a fucking outlaw! Sure enough, that might be enough for many women, but Hailey wasn't like that and had never been. Bad boys were overrated in her opinion, and failed to see the charm in it. But with Chibs, it was different. She couldn't put her finger on it, and she didn't want to, either. No, she had to put a lid on her stupid feelings, calm down and think straight. So, instead of watching, she decided to do something useful, and ended up helping Chuck with some paperwork. When Chibs came to find her, telling her it was time to go home—even though the noun didn't apply to her—she couldn't believe the time had passed by so quickly. And of course, just as she had forgotten about Chibs, his reappearance made her feel that strange tension again. Even though he seemed perfectly at ease, she could almost feel the air vibrate. Was she really the only one feeling it?!

"C'mon, love," he called as he put on his kutte over his brown leather jacket.

Hailey followed without a word, almost afraid of what would happened once they were back on the bike, and not to mention what would happen once they were alone in that apartment. Was she going to close herself inside the room the whole night?

As she straddled the bike behind him, she immediately felt that same, electrical pull as before, and her heart raced. Feeling his strong frame in front of her, feeling the vibration of the bike beneath her and feeling the tightened feeling inside her, made the short trip barely bearable. They came to some traffic lights, and they were facing red. Chibs slowed down to a stop and put one leg down for support, and that was when she saw it; the fully tattooed, shaved man in the front seat of a black SUV on one of the crossing streets. He hadn't seen them yet, and Hailey desperately tapped Chibs' shoulder.

"Wha'?"

"The black SUV," she said, pointing as discreetly as she could. "Look at the driver." While Chibs observed, Hailey hurried to tuck in as much of her red hair as she could under her helmet.

"Right, we're goin' te make a wee detour," he said. "Hold on tight." And as soon as the light turned green, Chibs kicked the bike into gear and made a left turn, past the SUV, in high speed.

Hailey looked over her shoulder several times, to make sure the car wasn't following. Fortunately, it wasn't. "We're in the clear!" she shouted over the roar of the bike.

Chibs answered by placing his arm and hand over her knee and shin, stroking it comfortably, and sent violent chills along her spine, like a current of electricity forced itself through her body. And he kept it there for a while, too, making her nervous, but when he removed it, she sort of missed it. They took a very different route back, and once the bike was safely place inside the garage, and they were both off, Chibs looked at her with an intense, almost frightening look.

"Are ye alright, love?"

She nodded, though taken aback. "Yeah."

"Good thinkin'," he said and pointed at his head. "With the hair, I mean."

"Um, yeah, I—" She looked down on her feet before looking up again. "I figured the hair would give me away. Wouldn't be so strange that you took a girl home, right?"

A corner of his mouth curled up into a smirk. "Aye. Now, c'mon." He walked past her, towards the door leading to the staircase, and she followed, though on trembling legs. She wasn't sure if it was all in her head, but he acted differently, again. His changing characteristics would give her a brain tumor, she was sure of it. If the electrical tension didn't beat it to the finish line, that was.


	7. Bend Until You Break

**A/N:** As it's apparently update-day, I'm obliged to update. But, the week-end is over, and I honestly don't know how much time I will have to write anymore, thus I don't know for how long I can keep up this every-other-day-thing. But I will certainly try my best!

Anyhow, this chapter's title is from, as you may see, _The Blues_ by **Switchfoot**. That is by far the best song I've heard by them. You know the drill; look it up.

And enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Seven**

"_You push until you're shoving, you bend until you break."  
_– _The Blues, Switchfoot_

She had felt his eyes on her the entire time she'd been by the stove, making dinner. It was even at the extent that she couldn't concentrate on the breaded fish and the lemon dressing. She almost burnt the fish and overdid the dressing, but it turned out alright. Though as they were eating, she still felt his dark, piercing eyes on her. They didn't talk much, more than a few statements about the food or about the SUV, and when they were done, Hailey volunteered on taking the dishes. Anything to keep her mind occupied. Although, he didn't make it easy for her.

"Ye will love me," he said as she could hear the screeching of cork against glass, and the next moment, he handed her a glass of wine.

"Oh… thank you," she said as she accepted the glass. The musty, almost bitter taste of the rich, blood red liquid was calming her from the first sip, and she sighed in relief. She wasn't much of a drinker, but wine was the dangerously delicious beverage that would ever have the power to put her into the deep pit of addiction. She watched him pour himself a glass of whisky, and take a seat in the living-room, not turning on the TV. Just, well, sitting. And he had brought the wine bottle with him. At first, she hesitated. Should she, considering her emotional imbalance? But he waited patiently for her, and finally, she took a deep breath before she joined him on the couch. "Really, thanks for the wine."

"No problem, love," he smiled. "Ye know, I think we had a rather interestin' conversation teday."

She just looked at him, and there he was, leaning back against the back of the couch, with his glass of whisky in his hand, and with dark eyes settled on her, almost smirking it seemed, but at the same time, it could have been just a regular, relaxed smile. "Really?"

He raised his brows and nodded, as if he was surprised himself. "Yeah. People haven' really asked me those questions before."

"Oh…" She looked down on her glass, feeling her stupid, fucking cheeks burn. "Well, I was doing my job and being a pain in the ass."

"Don' say tha' te Tig," Chibs huffed and drank from his whisky.

Hailey chuckled. "I won't. Maybe."

"So, wha' about you, then?" he asked and rested his eyes on her.

She was surprised. "Yeah, what about me?"

"Ye know, yer parent, yer dreams?" he shrugged.

"Oh," she nodded, and before she could say anything else she let another sip of wine warm her body and cloud her mind. She was already starting to feel the effect, after what, three sips? "Well, my dad's a doctor, too, actually. He's a dentist. I know what you think, but dentists _are_ doctors. Anyway, my mom _was_ an attorney, but she wore herself out, and now she's working at a daycare centre."

He gave her a smug grin. "An' d'ye want te become any of tha'?"

Hailey huffed. "No! I have my dreams and ambitions set upon moving to Italy and start… decoding stuff. Sort of like, you know, _The Da Vinci Code_. I mean, even though it's fiction, filled with inaccuracies, it's sort what I wanna do, and there are hundreds—_thousands_—of conspiracy theories hidden in historic messages, just waiting for someone to pick it up!"

Chibs raised an eyebrow. "An' how're ye gonna accomplish tha'?"

"Well, my plan was to kick Harvard's ass and ace the shit out of it and then study archeology, mathematics and history in Rome, but I guess… that's pretty much out of the picture now."

"Why?"

She huffed as she rolled her eyes. "No, you're absolutely right; I'm Wonderwoman. I don't _have _to be at the university, so it really doesn't matter if I'm stuck in a small town in California, fending for my life. I don't need study materials, I don't need to study for my exams, I don't need to read anything 'cause I basically already know it, because I'm… well, God."

Chibs rolled his eyes. "Forget tha' I said anythin'."

"Sorry, but stupid questions get stupid answers," she said and shrugged. It was astonishing what wine did to her, and how fucking handsome it made Chibs look, and how goddamn sexy his accent sounded. She mentally slapped herself for that last bit.

"Aye, but tha' wasn' a stupid question," he said and raised a brow. "I was serious; why d'ye think ye wouldn' make it jus' because ye're here now?"

"Do you see a smooth way out of this?" she asked. "'Cause I don't. I just had to call my family and tell them to go into hiding because_ I_ made a mistake. I just found out that my best friend—_my best friend—_ratted on me. I can't even let my nana call the cops, because I can't trust anyone, and that means _they_ can't trust anyone. That's how smooth this is running." She took a deep sip of her wine, surprised by her sudden explosion.

Chibs, though, did not seem surprised. He even seemed cold. "Te be honest, ye seem very calm about it all."

Hailey snorted. "Yeah, well, I'm sort of hounded by bad luck. Even though I'm devastated, it doesn't surprise me, and just makes me even more cynical, thank you very much. Doesn't matter much now, does it?"

"How did ye know tha' the codes ye deciphered were the real ones?" he asked and stared blankly at her.

She was surprised, and her heart rate increase. What did he imply? That she had been lying? "If you knew anything about cryptology, you'd know that once the pattern is revealed, it's just like spelling."

He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, narrowing his eyes. "I jus' find it… well, unbelievable tha' _you_, a twenty-four-year-old literature student, with a dentist father an' a worn out attorney mother, would be entrusted dechiperin' codes worth five billion dollars."

She blinked, staring blankly back, feeling her heart fall into the pit of her stomach. Suddenly, she felt so stupid to ever even imagine trusting these men. "So… do you think I'm lying, or what? Do you think I would let myself get _kidnapped_, put my _family_ in danger and fuck up my future dreams just to… what? What is it you think I'm trying to do? Get you, guys? Get the Sons of Anarchy? Get a club I've never heard of in my entire _fucking _life?" She frowned and shook her head.

"Well, are ye?" His brown eyes bore into hers, and she felt choked.

She sat looking at him speechlessly, feeling tears creeping up her throat. So, this was what he thought of her? To be a lying little bitch? She would imagine Jax thought the same thing, and they had been talking about her earlier. Was that what they had thought all along? Was that why they put her with Chibs, because Jax knew that if she needed to go fast, Chibs wouldn't have any problems doing it? Bobby obviously cared for her, so leaving her with him could cause problems in the long run. She suddenly felt so cheated, so deceived. And scared. Was she sitting eye to eye, having a drink, with her killer? "I… think I've had enough for tonight," she said as she stood up on shaky legs and walked towards the kitchen. "Thanks for the wine."

"We're not done yet," he said lowly.

"Well, I'm _fucking_ done," she muttered as she gulped the last of the wine in her glass and put it in the sink.

"So, ye won' even deny it?" he taunted her from the couch. "Tha's interestin'."

"Fuck you," she muttered as she slammed the door shut to the bedroom and slid down on the floor, crying. She tore at her clothes; she didn't want the cloths of someone who thought of her as a liar. She tore it all off, and put her own clothes on, and she didn't even care they were dirty. She just wanted to get out, to get away. Her shoes were by the front door, so she had to forget about those. She looked around, trying to decide what to do, where to go. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears. What if he was loading his gun outside the door at this very second? Panic clawed through her chest again, tearing at her throat, causing her to breathe shallowly and rapidly. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the fear and panic, or maybe it was it all combined, but she had to get out. She had to get out _now._ Her eyes diverted to chair in a corner, a chair she had put all of the clothes she'd gotten from Gemma on, and she threw the clothes to the floor, and placed the chair underneath the door handle. Slowly, she backed into the bed, and she sat down, eyes fastened on the chair. She was so afraid, she was trembling violently. She held her hands in mid air, watching them tremble, and she then curled them into fists and crossed her arms. She had no idea what to do next. Her eyes darted round the room, and came to a rest on the window. The window… she rose to look out. It was a fall, alright. If she only could crawl out and reach the ledge of the window below… suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and her stomach turned.

"_Hailey, we need te talk_."

She stopped breathing for a second, not daring to turn. He sounded impatient, harsh almost. When the second knock landed on the door, she pulled the window open, smashing a flower pot that had been standing on the window seal.

"_Wha're ye doin'?_" she heard him demand.

Hailey stopped in motion and shot a look at the door. The chair would hold it, but for how long, she didn't know.

The handle flipped, and she jumped in a gasp. It flipped once more, before it started flipping violently. "_Hailey, open this door! Now!_" The handle kept flipping, and he had added bangs on the door as well, and Hailey squealed as she turned to climb out the window, her heart thumping so loudly she almost thought it would break out of her chest. It was high up, and she had to heave herself up, but once she popped her head out and saw the forty feet drop, she cried out and jumped back down. That fall would severely injure her, if not kill her. Then again, she glanced at the door, which was being pounded by an angry Scotsman at the moment—the chair was starting to give way—and in a split second, she decided she'd take the fall over the wrath of that man anytime. But just as she was about to once again heave herself up, the door burst open, and it only took him three long strides to wrap his arms around her and pull her away from the window. She screamed and kicked and hit her fists on his arms, but he didn't let go. And she didn't give up.

"_LET ME GO_!" she screamed so loudly, she thought her vocal cords would break.

"Calm down!" he barked back, but she kept kicking and hitting him.

"NO!" Her screams had turned into panicking cries as the panic-attack overtook her body completely. She could barely see anymore, even less breathe properly, as she was forced down on the bed, face down. She could feel his weight pin her down, and she tried, she really did, to push him away, but in vain. He was too strong. She let out a muffled scream against the mattress.

"Calm down!" he barked again while holding her arms firmly against her side.

Realizing it was pointless to fight, she simply gave up and buried her face in the cover, crying. He remained on top of her, and she could feel his heavy breaths on her back. She knew very well what situation she was in, what he could do to her, and she was afraid, so afraid. But eventually, she felt his hard grip lessen, and finally, she felt his weight disappear. She curled up into a ball and cried, feeling so drained, so frightened and so defeated and humiliated.

She heard him walk about the room, closing the window, picking up pieces from the crashed pot, from the broken chair, and putting the clothes from the floor to the bed. She could then feel how he sat down on the bedside. And she kept crying. He didn't move, and she just wished he would leave her alone.

Her tears had long dried out, the alcohol in her blood was long gone, but she hadn't moved—and neither had he—when she finally opened her mouth and let out a hoarse, "would you please leave me alone?"

He didn't answer at first, and she saw him observing his hands, before he turned his head to her, his dark, silver stranded hair falling into his eyes. "So ye can try te jump again? Yeah, right."

"I'm not suicidal." Her voice was weak, and on the verge of breaking, and at the moment she didn't care if she sounded like a small, frightened child. She _was_ afraid, and she had every right to be.

"Why would ye jump then?"

"You are going to kill me," she whispered. "You think I'm a liar."

"Well, tryin' te jump out a window doesn' really lessen me suspicions, love," he said and raised a brow.

She looked at him, and was rather surprised by the absence of anger in those dark, dangerous eyes. "So what?" she said, trying to regain some of her dignity. "Are you gonna watch me twenty-four-seven now, or what?"

"If I have te," he answered and shrugged. "Go te sleep, love. It's well over midnight."

"How can I be sure you won't murder me while I sleep?" she asked.

This caused him to smile. "Aye, ye jus' have te trust me, I guess." Slowly, he bent down towards her, and she held her breath. Softly and gently, his lips touched the top of her head, and his hand caressed her arm. "We'll talk about this in the mornin'."

One more deer like glance at his eyes, and she knew this shit about her being a liar was far from over. He was cold as ice, and the kiss on her forehead had not been for comfort.

**¤(SoA)¤**

When the girl was finally asleep, he allowed himself to leave the room. He knew confronting her like that would be a risk—he didn't expect her to answer yes whether or not is was the truth. But he had to know. He would not give food and shelter to a spy. Was he convinced she wasn't? No, not yet. But even Chibs had to admit that the heartbreak in her eyes were almost too real to doubt. He grabbed himself a beer and took a seat by the kitchen island. He had left the door to the bedroom open—in truth, it was too trashed to close—in case she would try anything again. He felt bad, he really did, for frightening her the way he had, and he was truly upset; what if he hadn't broken in when he had? Would she have jumped? Would she have been dead by now? After cursing at himself, he grabbed the beer and went back into the room. She was sleeping by the foot of the bed, right about where he had forced her down. She was curled up, and she looked so small, so fragile. Her bare legs were knotting in the cold, and he folded the cover so that it would cover them, and then he sat down by the head of the bed and leaned back. He observed her as her steady breaths made her chest rise and fall, and in the dim light from the moon outside the window, she seemed serene. But he knew she was full of fear, full of doubt. Her red hair brought a contrast to her fair skin in the moonlight, and he could help but to notice and admire her beauty. Slowly, his eyes trailed her silhouette; her eyelashes, her nose, her full lips, her slender neck, her petite breasts, her waist, her hips… he took a sip of his beer and wondered what the hell he was doing. This was no Crow Eater he could just flip and be done with; this was a young, educated woman with problems. Actually, five billions of them. He had no right to look at her the way he did while she was asleep. He wasn't even sure he had the right to ever look at her that way. He sighed and went over her story in his head once again. Was it plausible? The fact that a World War II fanatic had sold a collection worth up to five billion dollars and split the money to eight different accounts weren't unlikely. Hell, he would never keep that kind of sum on one account alone himself. That part of her story seemed valid. But the documents? Who would have obtained the real copies on which those codes were written? If not this Siegfried Barnaum had sent the documents himself, they must have been stolen. Fair enough, he thought. If the word got out that the old Nazi with cancer had paperwork worth five billion dollars, that would been seen as an easy job. Had Unser proved to hold on to papers worth that kind of money, it would be like taking candy from a kid. But why—_why?_—would that person give the codes to a Harvard professor? The _only_ copies, no less, assuming those documents had been the only copies? Why else would they have needed Hailey, _if_ her story was valid?

He knew he could ponder about this for hours on end, but somewhere between deciding whether or not he should be hard on her and fighting the urge to touch her, he must have fallen asleep, and woken up many hours later, when the sun was up. His back was sore after sleeping in a very curious position, sort of slumped against the head board, and as he sat up, grunting, he noticed that Hailey was still fast asleep, so he silently slid out of the bed and walked into the kitchen to put on some coffee. It was half ten in the morning, and he wondered when he'd fallen asleep. The boys down by the garage would probably wonder where he was at, but the meeting wasn't until noon, so he would have time for a shower and a coffee. The shower was a nice break from reality, and the coffee was a wonderful mind clearer. It was a quarter past ten when he peeked into the bedroom. Hailey had not moved. "Ye awake, love?"

"Yeah." Her voice was small and weak, and made him clench his jaw. He didn't want her to affect him like this, in case she actually was a fraud, but he couldn't help but to feel the tightening feeling of his conscience strangle him.

He sighed. "There's coffee in the kitchen. I've got somethin' te do, but I'll send Juice over. Ye get along, don't ye?"

"Yeah."

He sighed. He couldn't take it any longer. He entered the room and sat down next to her. "Look at me."

She obeyed, and met him with tired, blue eyes that still had the trace of fear and heartbreak.

"If ye're honest with me, I'll be good te ye, I promise," he said. "Told ye I was a man of me words."

"You broke your last promise," she whispered.

Chibs raised his brows. "Did I? Well, did I hurt ye?"

She seemed confused. "No… but you were going to."

He shook his head. "No, I wasn'." Though, he honestly didn't know how much truth that held.

She blinked at him, and finally let out a sigh and looked away.

Chibs clenched his jaw. "The conversation we started last night… we're not done yet."

"I know."

"Don' do anythin' stupid while I'm gone, yeah?" he said while he rose.

"Like leave?" Her words, though weakly executed and sounding small, were still stained with that trademark sarcasm of hers.

He chuckled. "Aye, like leave."

"I'll see what I can do."

He looked at her one last time before he left, deciding that "_I'll see what I can do_" was good enough for him.

**¤(SoA)¤**

She heard the door shut and lock, and she sighed heavily. How was she ever going to get out of this? She glanced over at the window, wondering how she ever came up with the stupid idea of jumping from it. That would have killed her. But she remembered the bangs, his barking, the door smash open… she remembered her fear, her panic, and she sighed. That was why she wanted to jump out the window, because she feared he was going to kill her. But he had been right; he hadn't hurt her. Not really. If he held her too tight while pinning her down, or grabbed to hard while pulling her away from the window, she guessed it was accidental. She hadn't been entirely sober and hadn't been thinking clear. There had to be another way—a better way—out of this then that window. Slowly, she sat up, her body stiff after sleeping in a ball the whole night. A bottle of beer stood on the nightstand—had Chibs been sitting by her side the whole night? She huffed. Was he really that stupid, thinking she would actually try jumping out the window again?

She looked around. The door was broken, dirt was spread on the floor below the window, and her clothes that she knew she had thrown on the floor, was lying on her bed. With another deep sigh, she rose and walked stiffly over to the other side of the bed, dug out some clean cloths and headed into the shower. She had a headache, but it wasn't as bad as her devastation. Did he really think she was a liar? She should thank him of giving her such credit; surely he must think she was a brilliant actress. She could even make a career out of it. Bitterness stung her as the water hit her skin, and she sighed in relief. The warm water relaxed her stiff muscles, and gave her comfort. Suddenly, she heard the door open and shut.

"_Hailey?_" It was Juice.

"I'm in the shower!"

"_Oh_."

She smiled. Oh, Juice. Why did he have to be involved with such gruesome people? She wished she'd learnt to know him under different circumstances, because this might mean she wouldn't be able to keep him. And she wanted that.

She stepped out of the shower and wrapped one of Chibs' towels around her and came to a stand by the mirror. It was foggy, and she dried if off with her wrist, and her own reflection looked back at her. But she didn't recognize herself. Not anymore. The person she saw in the mirror was the Harvard girl striving to be the best, while the one she felt like now, was a broken girl, trying to survive. She grabbed the toothbrush Gemma had brought her and brushed her teeth, and after, she got dressed and left the bathroom, only to find Juice inside the bedroom, looking very confused as he observed the broken door and the dirt on the floor.

"What the hell happened in here?" asked.

Hailey scratched her head. "Just a little misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" Juice raised a brow. "Chibs did this?"

Hailey opened her mouth to say something, but settled with simply shaking her head. "Look, it's… it's a long story."

He did not seem content with that, though. He furrowed his brows. "I can't even imagine what it would take for Chibs to break down the door to his own bedroom… did you guys have a fight? Are you alright?" He reached out to inspect her face, but she rejected the hand with a scowl.

Hailey rolled her eyes and headed into the kitchen to have some of that coffee. Juice followed, asking questions as he did. Ignoring his questions, she turned to him. "Have you guys been talking about me? About me being a fraud?"

Juice was taken aback and frowned. "No. At least, I haven't heard any."

"Well, Chibs had this… idea," she crossed her arms, "that I was lying. That I planned it all. That I _planned_ my own kidnapping."

He furrowed his brows. "What?"

"That's what I asked him," she shrugged him. "I told him the truth, but he didn't believe me. So, I panicked. Tried to jump out the window."

Juice's jaw dropped. "You—are you insane?! That's gotta be at least thirty feet! You could have died!"

She rolled her eyes. "That's why he broke down the door. But what was I supposed to do?! I was sure he would kill me! Juice, you didn't see the look in his eyes!"

Juice rolled his eyes. "Hailey, Chibs _always_ looks like that! I think's it's a European thing, or whatever. Doesn't mean he wants to kill you!"

She sighed heavily and took a seat by the island. "Well, that's what happened. I guess… I guess I wasn't entirely sober, either. I had been drinking some wine." Juice sat down next to her. "I just—I don't know how to convince him I'm telling the truth. If I could prove that those accounts are real, then, that would be it. I would have nothing else to offer." Juice stared at her, eyes wide. "What?"

"Shit, I totally forgot!" he hissed. "I was gonna find out shit about those accounts!"

Hailey furrowed her brows. And then, she had an idea. "Does Chibs have a computer?"

Confused, Juice looked around. "I guess… check in that cabinet by the TV."

"Give me your phone," she ordered, but Juice seemed suspicious. Hailey put a hand on his arm and looked into his brown eyes. "Juice, trust me. I need to make a call."


	8. We're All Weeping Now

**A/N: **Alright, time for a new chapter. Again, thank you all for your lovely comments, it's very appreciated! :) I can give you a tiny spoiler; I'm introducing a fantastic new character today! (Maybe not fantastic in the sense of being, well, fantastic, but is very fun writing, anyhow..) :D

Right, so today's chapter is named after** Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds**'_ O Children_ (widely recognised for being featured in _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1_). This is a fantastically, dark, melancholic song, and I love to just pop it on and disappear in its despair :) As always; go, run, listen to it now! Let it be the soundtrack of the chapter!

Enough talking from the author!

Enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Eight**

"_We're all weeping now, weeping because there ain't nothing we can do to protect you."  
_— _O Children, Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds_

They had found a laptop in the cabinet Juice had suggested, and pondered over the password. They had tried his birthday, the name of his birth town, his country, his club, but nothing had been correct.

"What's his mother's name?" Hailey asked.

Juice shook his head. "He wouldn't use that." Then he rolled his eyes and snorted. "Man, I'm stupid! Try _Kerrianne_, of course!"

Hailey did as told, and it worked. "Good job, Juice! Who's Kerrianne?"

"His daughter," Juice explained, seemingly irritated he hadn't figured it out earlier.

There was a strange feeling inside of her—a feeling she shouldn't feel and especially after last night—that made her sort of sad to know that he already had a family, that he had a daughter. How old was she? Was she Hailey's age? Was she older? Did he have a wife? She wanted to slap herself silly for being so stupid. She didn't care about Chibs' family. Why would she care about that? It wasn't as if she wanted it, or anything. Right? No… no, she didn't. No, she didn't. She reached her hand out to Juice. "Give me the phone." An object fell into her hand, and she dialed and put the phone to her ear. There came a few signals before anyone answered.

"_This is Margret Ellis_."

"Same rules; do not say my name. Pretend you're talking to your mom."

"_Hailey?_"

"What did I just tell you?!"

"_It's okay. I'm in my room. It's really empty without you, Hal._"

"Listen to me," Hailey sighed. "Do you want to prove how sorry you are?"

"_You know I do!_"

"Then go to my computer and start it up." She could her Maggie move, and she could hear her computer being started. "The password is the date we went to that Radiohead concert. Remember?"

"_Of course_."

Hailey waited a moment. "Are you in?"

"_Yeah_."

"Alright, on the desktop, you'll find a folder saying _Cryptology_. Open it."

She heard a click. "_Yeah?_"

"There's a file there, named _Assignment 5_. Do you find it?"

"_Yeah_." There was silence for a moment. "_And now what?_"

"Send it to my email," she ordered.

A minute or so passed before Maggie sighed. "_It's sent. Now what?_"

"Delete the file."

"_Okay._" Hailey could hear the sound of a file being deleted, and Maggie took a deep breath. "_Anything else?_"

"Can I trust you?"

"_You know you can!_" Maggie cried desperately. "_Hailey, I'd do anything for you to forgive me!_"

"Top left drawer," Hailey said and closed her eyes. "Underneath a pile of papers and books, you'll find a brown envelope. I want you to send it to me."

"_Okay,_" Maggie said. "_Where do you want me to send it?_"

Hailey sighed. She couldn't tell her where she was. "Hold on a second." She brought her hand to cover the phone while she looked at Juice. "Where is she sending it?"

He raised his brows. "Well… not here, obviously…"

"Not to Charming," Hailey said.

"I have a cousin in Oakland! Tell her to send it to him, and I'll come pick it up!"

She raised an eyebrow. "Can we trust him?"

"I would trust him with my life."

Hailey nodded. "Give me his address."

Juice sought out some paper and a pen, scrawled down the address, and Hailey gave it to Maggie, telling her to send it as soon as possible, and make sure no one saw her as she did it. Maggie promised to do so, and when they hung up, Juice looked worried, and was biting his thumb nail.

"Don't worry," Hailey smiled. "I have a plan."

"That's what I'm worried about."

**¤(SoA)¤**

Damon Pope was well dressed, as always, and the contrast between his men, and Jax, Chibs and Bobby was astounding. Though, the man did not seem that glad Jax had brought company.

"Just a precaution," Jax assured.

Chibs clenched his jaw. He didn't like Damon Pope. And he didn't like that Jax was doing business with the man. The image of Opie being beaten to death inside that room was still fresh in his memory, and he bit down even harder, his teeth almost cracking.

"Oh, don't mind me," Pope said. "I'm thinking about Mr. Tyler. He does not like this kind of turn-out."

"What about your men?" Jax replied.

"Well, I'm Damon Pope," the dark man smiled.

Shortly after, a gleaming black hummer parked beside them. The driver stepped out; a young man, sharply dressed, with combed hair and sunglasses, and one of those earpieces you'd only see on FBI agents in movies. The man was joined by three more, all dressed the same, and the driver opened the back door, letting out a tall man, handsomely dressed as well, wearing sunglasses, with black, silver stranded combed hair, with a sturdy, well shaved chin and a ridiculously white smile.

"Well, well," he said, "ain't this an interesin' bunch?" His southern accent drenched his mocking words and he looked patronizingly at the bikers, and Chibs fought the urge of knocking those white teeth right out of his mouth. The man then turned to Pope. "Ah, Damon!" The two of them shook hands. "You ain't got any whiter."

"And you haven't gotten any less racist," Pope retorted. Craig Taylor just laughed. Pope motioned towards Jax. "This is Jackson Teller, President of the Sons of Anarchy."

Tyler seemed reluctant to shake his hand, but did it anyways. "Yeah. The useless biker that took out some of my guys." He wore an arrogant smirk. "And stole from me."

"We didn't steal anything," Jax growled. "Your crew destroyed a property of ours. That was just retaliation."

"Yeah, well," Tyler sighed and removed the shades, "y'see, those guys were escortin' a very important person, who never made it to me, and I'm kinda furious about that."

"You talking about a girl?" Jax sneered. "Yeah, we saw her, running for her life, chased by your guys who were trying to gun her down."

Tyler smirked. "Yeah, well, you know how it is, usin' that kinda people; they tend to get a bit… reckless."

"So, you think we've got the girl?" Jax asked dryly and raised a brow.

Chibs straightened. It would be interesting to hear what the bastard had to say.

"Well, I know you have," Tyler replied.

"Why would we take a girl like that?" Jax sneered. "We ain't kidnappers." Then he shrugged. "We made sure she was okay, and then she walked away. My guess is that she went to report it."

"Now, y'see, that a lie, Mr. Teller," Tyler said and lowered his brows. "She never reported to the police. If she was runnin' for her life, yah might think she'd wanna report it, but she never reported nothin'. Now this is a… dear, dear friend o' mine. I wouldn't like to see her get hurt, if you know what I mean?"

"Ain't my problem," Jax said.

Tyler furrowed his brows and let out a surprised laugh. He then turned to Pope. "Now Damon, why did ya summon us here? To work out our problems?"

Pope raised a brow. "Craig, I'm in business with Mr. Teller here. And I'd like to keep it that way." He gave Jax a look before returning to Tyler. "But I am also in business with you. I thought it important to work out our differences once and for all so that we _all_ could continue doing business as usual."

Tyler seemed to ponder over what had just been said. He then turned to Jax. "I see. You don't like me bein' in Charmin', is that it?"

"Yeah," Jax said, emphasizing the word.

"Sorry to disappoint ya, son," he said. "But I ain't leavin'."

Jax's face distorted into a face of restrained rage. "Nobody, and I mean _nobody_, pushes drugs and whores in my town, you hear that?"

Tyler just scoffed. "You've got guts, son, I'll give you that much. But don't try to play with the big guys when you're only in little league. Now, I'm establishin' my business in California, and there ain't nothin' you do to stop that."

Jax sneered and shook his head slowly. "You don't know a shit of what we can do to your organization."

Tyler scoffed again. "Yeah, I've… I've heard about your… _cute_ little co-operation with the Galindo Cartel. Those brownies ain't got nothin' against my authority."

Jax snarled. "Then I guess we're at war."

"Now, hold on," Pope sighed. "There are ways we can make this work. Craig, there are plenty of places in California that will produce just as much cash, if not more, as Charming."

Craig Tyler smirked mockingly. "Alright, let's make a deal, you and I, shall we?" He looked at Jax.

"What kind of deal?"

"I'll leave Charmin'," he said, "if you hand me that girl."

"We don't have her."

"Then find her."

"Wha' do ye want the girl for?" Chibs had to make a real effort not to offend the man, and tried to sound as civilized as possible.

But Tyler just raised a brow. "Well, _Scotty_, that ain't any a'your business."

"Maybe we should know who this woman is," Jax pointed out, "before we go looking for her, in case you're sending us to find someone worth being cautious with."

Tyler laughed and put his shades back on. "I'll give you some time to think about it. If you accept, I guess you'll have to find that out for yourselves, boys." Then he turned towards Pope. "Damon," he said politely before he turned and headed back to his car.

"Well, then maybe you should keep one eye open as you sleep, Mr. Tyler," Jax said smugly. "Women are prone to hold on to grudges. If she didn't go to the police, she must have felt like she needed to take care of it on her own."

Tyler gave him a glare and a raised brow before he sat down in the backseat of the hummer, and the car drove away.

Chibs spit on the ground after the car. "Fuckin' prick."

Damon Pope sighed. "Now, I'm not a fan of Mr. Tyler, but," he looked at the three bikers, and they looked back after the car, "every man has got to know who his superiors are." He looked at Jax. "We have more to discuss, Jackson. I'll keep in touch." They shook hands, and when Pope's cars were off the lot of the empty warehouse, Jax turned to Chibs and Bobby.

"Wha' do we do now, Jackie-boy?" Chibs sighed.

Jax clenched his jaw, and shook his head. "There's only one thing we _can_ do."

"We can't give her up," Bobby said lowly.

"And I don't want a full scale war on my doorstep!" Jax cried.

"Taking her in only to give her up?!" Bobby retorted. "That's beastly!"

"Ye were the one who thought her te be Tyler's lapdog!" Chibs spat. "Why the change o' heart?"

"It was a theory," Bobby spat back. "When I've thought about it some more, it seems ridiculous. She was hurting bad when we took her in. Now, if that was acting, she ought to have every _fucking_ Oscar there is."

Jax shook his head. "Yeah, something's not right about this… have we found out anything about those accounts yet?"

Bobby shook his head. "Nothin'."

"Chibs?"

He shook his head. "Not more than she's already told us."

Jax sighed. "Alright. Let's… stop and rewind. She gets the original documents from…?"

"Her professor," Chibs nodded.

"Right. And what do we know of her professor?"

"He's dead."

Jax nodded.

Bobby sighed, impatiently. "We know all this. Really, all we can do is to find out if those accounts are for real. Without them, we're lost. We don't know if she's lying or telling the truth and—for God's sake!—we can't keep treating her as if she's lying! That would make us no better than Tyler!"

"Are we?" Chibs barked and furrowed his brows as Bobby. "Treatin' her as if she's lyin'? She's got a roof o'er her head, food on the table, a fuckin' bed to sleep in!" He then turned to Jax, fury raging inside of him. "I'm tellin' ye, Jackie-boy, if she's lyin', I'll blow her fuckin' brains out."

Jax closed his eyes and nodded. "I know, man. I know."

"So what do we do? Do we keep her or do we give her up?" Bobby's dark question hung in the air, causing silence between the three of them.

After a while, Jax took a deep breath. "We take it to the table."

They went back to the club house, all in silence since all three of them had a lot on their minds. Chibs and Bobby didn't even look at each other, and even though Chibs wanted to try to make his brother understand his pain and anger, he knew Bobby would never understand. Chibs couldn't take a betrayal. Honesty was important to him. Honesty and loyalty. You couldn't have the one without the other. Break one, and both goes away. He knew that. He sighed and lighted a cigarette, letting the nicotine calm him down. Jax suddenly pulled him aside. "Wha's the matter?"

Jax looked pained. "I know this is hard on you, man," he said. "This shit about Juice and all… you don't really need this, too. Maybe we should let her move in with Bobby."

Chibs furrowed his brows, blowing out some smoke, unable to comprehend where Jax was going to this. Did he think he was weak in any way? "Wha'?"

"I'm serious, man," Jax said and frowned. "I need you, bro. I can't have you too focused on that shit."

Chibs narrowed his eyes. "Jackie, have I ever let ye down?"

"No, man, but—"

"Tha's right! An' I ain' goin' te start now!" He furrowed his brows even tighter. "If she turns out te be workin' fer Tyler, d'ye really think Bobby will be able te do wha' needs te be done?!"

Instead of giving a rapid answer, Jax looked into Chibs' eyes for a moment, and then he slowly shook his head. "Will you?"

Chibs opened his mouth to give a barking retort, but closed it shut and looked away. Huffing, he put his cigarette in his mouth and his hands on his hips and shook his head before giving Jax a look of disbelief.

"Look, man," Jax sighed, "this isn't you. You don't do this. Not to women. You never have, and you never will."

"Ye know I'll do whatever ye need me te do," he said through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, and right now, I need you to find some space for betrayal," Jax said, "because we don't know." He patted Chibs on the shoulder, and went past him towards the club house.

Chibs exhaled cigarette smoke as he sighed heavily.

**¤(SoA)¤**

"This is… crazy," Juice breathed while the two of them were sitting by the kitchen island, after a long silence. "I mean… shit! It's real. It's _actually _real!"

"Oh, that sounds reassuring," Hailey said and rolled her eyes. "If you didn't believe me, I'm sure no one else did."

"So?" Juice asked. "Now you can prove it! I mean, geez!"

"Yeah, but Juice, if that Tyler wants that money, he'll have to go to Zürich himself," Hailey frowned. "That's the only way to get it. And even that will be almost impossible, because bank policy protects the deposits; relatives or those entitled by the last will have the only right to touch those accounts."

"But we don't know if Barnaum actually gave the documents to Tyler in his last will," Juice said. "What if he did? Then we're the ones stealing."

"If Barnaum left his fortune to Tyler, I don't think he'd do it without the deciphered codes," Hailey said and raised her brows. "My guess is that, maybe, he put out clues, I don't know."

"You mean, like some sort of game?"

Hailey nodded. "I mean, the man puts his money in safety deposit boxes where the passwords are the account numbers encoded into codes you only can decipher once you know how to do it. You don't do that if you're just gonna hand the money over to someone. He knew he was dying, so he knew what he was doing ensuring that money would be safe."

"You think Tyler used The Righteous because of the Nazi thing?"

"I… I don't know," Hailey admitted. "Most probably. I don't see any other connection. Maybe Tyler is connected to Nazi movements himself, heard about Barnaum and took the documents. All we can know with certainty is that we won't know a shit before we meet the bankers in Zürich."

Juice furrowed his brows. "What are you—" He was interrupted by the opening of the door, and Chibs stepped inside, his face set hard. "Hey, man. How did the meeting go?"

Chibs sighed heavily as he hung his kutte over a chair and disarmed himself onto the island, as usual. "Go home, Juice. I'll tell ye tomorro'."

Juice gave Hailey a beaten look before he nodded and rose. "Right. Well, bye."

"Bye," Hailey said with an iffy smile, and then, Juice was gone. She looked at Chibs. He looked tired and heavy—something was burdening him. Oh, wait… she was. "What meeting?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he went to his liquor cabinet and pulled out his whisky and poured himself a glass. "We had a meetin' with Craig Tyler teday."

Hailey opened her mouth slightly, while taking a ragged breath. This wasn't good. But she closed it, and swallowed hard. "Did you… get your theory confirmed?"

"No." He took a sip of his whisky. "Neither did I get it denied."

Hailey shifted nervously in her seat. "So, what _did_ you get out of it?"

He took another sip, joined her by the island, and stroked his beard while looking out into nothingness. There was a long pause, before he sighed, looked down into his glass, and then at Hailey, his brooding brown eyes meeting her worried blue. "Tyler proposed a deal to Jax," he said. "He'll leave town if we give ye over. We'll have a club vote tomorro'."

Hailey felt the blood disappear from her face. So, they _were _using her as leverage… she didn't know what to do, what to say, so she diverted her eyes from his to the table, feeling how the tears choked her slowly.

"He suspected we had ye, but we never confirmed it," Chibs continued, his voice mellow. "In fact, we denied it."

"Why?" she breathed.

This caused him to chuckle slightly. "Did ye think we'd give him a reason te declare war on us? Didn' matter, though. He still suspected we were lyin'."

Hailey took a ragged breath, feeling how blood flushed back into her face, but not by embarrassment, but by fear and anxiety and devastation and anger. She fiddled with her nails. "Why did you make the deal, then?" It was so low, she wasn't sure he'd heard it. When he hadn't answered her for a good five seconds, she dared to look up.

Chibs took a sip of his whisky and then stared boldly into her eyes, and she thought, that after last night's events, the butterflies would be long gone, but no—his eyes made her heart flutter and her knees tremble. "We haven' made it yet, love."

She blinked, barely hearing what he'd just said, deeply entranced by the dark orbs staring intensely at her. Again, she felt her cheeks burn, this time, by embarrassment, and she quickly looked away, suddenly realizing that he'd actually said something to her, when all she really heard was his voice, his brogue, and desperately—nay, despairingly!—she clung to the last word he said, a word he so often used when speaking to her; _love_.

"Did ye hear me?" he asked, raising his brows.

"Yes," she said quickly, vigorously fiddling with her nails. The thumbnail seemed decisively interesting and became the main focus of her attention.

But she could hear him lean over the table. "Then ye must understand, tha' we migh' vote against it. Nothin' is fer certain, love. If I know Jax, he'll have somethin' up his sleeve."

Did she dare to look at him? She wanted to, but did she dare, afraid that she might show more than she'd like to? She breathed slowly, painfully slowly, while trying to wrap it all around her head, mostly her host's rapid change of heart, back and forth, but also the fact that maybe it _wasn't _her weak state that created these feelings inside of her, but something more profound, something more compelling—something a lot deeper rooted than she'd wished. She took a deep breath and looked up, her cheeks still burning. He was looking at her with anxiety, it seemed.

"We don' know which way this will go," he murmured.

She sighed. It pained her that he didn't trust her. Out of all the bikers, she imagined him to be the one who mistrusted her most. Why? That was the question she asked the most. _Why_? Had she not proved to be no threat? Sure enough her mouth was big, but she herself was nothing against these men. If she, for some reason, _was _playing them, she'd imagine she would do so with a bit more finesse. And even though she'd always enjoyed acting, Chibs of all people ought to know, after all the times he'd seen her cry, seen her afraid, seen her shattered by devastation, he would know that she was anything _but_ acting. If he was so set on believing the worst of her, how would she convey him to change his mind? She took a deep breath, trying to seem as okay as possible, though she didn't know how well she managed. "What do you think? Which way?"

He shook his head and drank the last of his whisky. "Don' know. We're divided on this."

She clenched her jaw and nodded. Divided. _We_. He was set on one side, that was clear. The question was, though: which?

He pulled a cigarette out of the pocket of his brown leather jacket he was still wearing, and lighted it. While puffing out thick, white smoke, still with the cigarette in his mouth, he raised his brows carelessly. "Juice and Bobby will be on yer side." He leaned back, almost nonchalantly. "Clay will want te give ye up."

"What about Jax?"

"For wha' it seems, he's more likely te vote against ye," he said.

She felt her cheeks burn once more, but this time, she held her gaze, too curious to look away. "And you? How will you vote?"

He stubbed the cigarette into his empty glass. "Don' know." He settled the dark eyes on hers, and she felt her knees tremble again. "Convince me."


	9. Wake Up

**A/N: **It's chapter time! Still surprised at myself.. oh well. Again, THANK YOU, all of you who read, favorite, alert and review this story! I thank you from the bottom of my heart! You make it all worth while!

Today's title is from **Metallica's** _Where the Wild Things Are_ (and a big HOORAY that **Metallica** is finally available on Spotify! :D), and I urge all of you to listen to it, because it's just an awesome song from an awesome band!

**AND, very important;** This chapter will contain a heavy load of information.. furthest down on the page, I've given you an extended author's note, explaining some of it. If your interested, please, take the time to read through it all :)

Anyways,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Nine**

"_So wake up, sleepy one; it's time to save your world."  
_— _Where the Wild Things Are, Metallica_

She blinked. What did he mean, _convince me_? He had this peculiar look, a look she couldn't determine whether to be challenging, cynical or flattering. She frowned confusedly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said and raised his brows, "convince me."

Again, she blinked, and his message slowly started to sink in. Was he giving her a chance? Was he giving her one last chance of proving herself trustable? A chance to save herself? A chance to survive? A thousand thoughts rushed into her mind, all at the same time, as she had suddenly forgotten all about her dangerous attraction to the man, and breathed rapidly, feeling a new sense of confidence and hope. "Well, then I have something to show you."

He suddenly seemed interested, and a bit surprised over her enthusiasm. "An' wha's tha'?"

"Okay," Hailey breathed and raised her hands. "Before I show you, you must promise not to lose your shit."

He raised a brow. "An' why's tha'?"

"I might have… done something you don't like." She avoided his eyes for a couple of seconds, only to hear him huff.

"Wha'?"

"I borrowed your computer." She quickly rose and went to one of the kitchen cabinets where she had placed the laptop. She always had the intention of showing Chibs what she and Juice had been doing, since sneaking about with stuff was hardly the right way of doing things right, but she didn't exactly want him to barge in on it, so she hid it. She didn't even think she'd have a chance to bring it up like this. She put the computer on the kitchen island, and looked apologetically at Chibs.

He, on the other hand, seemed amazed, annoyed and furious, all at the same time. "How did ye get in?"

Hailey rolled her eyes. "You don't have that good imagination, you know. The name of your daughter? Not that original."

He was not amused, but he came to stand next to her and put his glasses on. "Wha' is it ye want te show?"

Despite her fluttering heart, due to his closeness, Hailey opened up the locked file with the codes, typed in the password, and as the file opened up, displaying the eight, sixty-four-characters-long series of alphanumerics, she took a deep, ragged breath. "These are the deciphered codes."

He didn't say anything for a good two minutes, and Hailey looked at him nervously. He was intensely observing the screen. Finally, he spoke, though without taking his eyes off the screen. "How do ye know these are account numbers from Switzerland?"

Hailey pointed towards the screen. "You see the first letters and digits there? They reveal the country. Normal international account numbers have about thirty-two to thirty-four characters, so these are about double that. Mostly it's a precaution; it would take quite some time for a computer to simulate all the possible combinations, taking it has sixty-four slots, ten numbers to choose from and twenty-six letters to choose from, which gives it like… an infinite amount of possibilities. I mean, take the numbers one, two and three. Together, they make twenty-seven combinations. That's three to the third. Now, add another number so you have four numbers, and you get two hundred and fifty-six combinations. That's four to the fourth. Throw in a fifth, and you're up in _three thousand one hundred and twenty-five_ different combinations. That's five to the fifth. So, you see the pattern, right? That means, if we have sixty-four slots to fill, and have thirty-six numbers and letters to choose from, that would give us _thirty-six to the sixty-forth_ combinations. So, you can imagine how many possible combinations there are then, can't you? " She looked at Chibs, expectedly, ecstatically—oh, how she wanted him to understand!

But he just seemed puzzled. "Who the bloody hell are ye, woman?" There was a smile on his face, and Hailey took it as a compliment.

"Anyways," she continued, "this specific bank requires a personal meeting if you wanna change anything about your safety deposit boxes anyhow, so when you've waited for your computer to finish calculating all the possible combinations, it would take you far too long to go through them all, which you'd have to do at the bank in Zürich."

Chibs just stared at her with furrowed brows. After a while he raised a brow. "Alright, Einstein. How could _you_ know how te decipher these then, if there are tha' many combinations?"

"Told you," she shrugged, somewhat pleased he wasn't shouting at her, though he still seemed a bit doubtful, "once you know the pattern, it's just like spelling, or doing math."

"So, wha's the pattern, then?"

She gazed up at him. He seemed genuinely interested, so she scrolled down to eight, one hundred and twenty-eight-characters-long series of numbers, split into sections of two. "These are the ones I started with."

Chibs frowned. "I don' get it. How can ye get tha' out of _tha_'?"

"It's called the _Burakowski Method_," Hailey explained. "Let me show you." She got up, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, the same Juice had used, and wrote down ten random numbers and showed it to Chibs. "This is a very, _very_ simplified version of it. Here, we have ten numbers. Let's split them up into sections of two. Now, the _Burakowski Method_ is a way of extracting letters _and_ numbers out of pure numbers. So, what you do, is that you look at these five sections we've got here. Now, first thing, we look for any section that equals twenty-five or lower, because that's a letter, A being double-o, B being o-one and so forth. See, we've got a ten. That's then the eleventh letter in the alphabet. So, from the ten we can extract a K. We look again, and here, we've got a twelve. That's an M, right? But the rest of the sections equal over twenty-five. Now, next step is to get this code half as long, which means, we need these sections to become one digit each. We do that by dividing them by two. If we get one half, we take the higher number. So, twenty-nine divided by two is fourteen and a half, so we round that up to fifteen, and divide that and get a seven and a half. Round that one up, and we get an eight. In the end, we will end up, in this case, with three numbers and two letters. We place them in the same order as their former sections, and we now have a five-character alphanumeric serial number." She was rather pleased with herself, and as she came to the conclusion, she raised her chin and straightened herself.

Chibs, however, still seemed doubtful. "How would tha' work the other way round? I mean, if we can decipher those ten numbers te a password, or wha'ever, then we must know how te make a password inte ten numbers?"

"Well, if we start with… let's say… 3D55H. Right, so, we know that three, five and five have to be multiplied by two until we get a number higher than twenty-five out of the lowest digit, which, in this case, is three. The D and the H will be… o-three and o-seven. So, if we were to write this as simple as possible—we could play around a bit and subtract halves here and there, if we wanted to, but let's not—we would get…" She made a quick calculation. "48-03-80-80-07. Now, if you don't know how to use this method, you wouldn't know that those ten numbers equaled 3D55H." As she was scribbling away on the piece of paper, she could hear Chibs huff, seemingly impressed by her exposition.

"I suppose it's a bit more complicated than tha'?" he asked.

"Yeah," Hailey chuckled. "There's some stuff about the prime numbers and how to deal with them that's sort of complicated, and sometimes, depending on whether we know the code to be case sensitive or not, we don't round up halves, but make them into lowercase letters instead, and that is sort of a complicated process itself, cause… well, there are a lot of rules. Other than that, it's pretty straight forwards, actually. There are a few rules about how many halves you can add and subtract, and there are rules of how to multiply one and so on. But otherwise… this is pretty much it."

"An' yer professor couldn' do this?" He was doubtful. She could hear it.

"He was a literature expert, not a mathematician." She started out with a smile, but it died away as she suddenly remembered that Mr. Reins, a very dear professor of hers, was no longer alive. He was dead. Shot. Suddenly, it was more real than ever. She was looking at the very thing that had killed him, as if it was a curse.

"But how could ye be sure tha' was the way te deciphered 'em?" Chibs frowned.

"Well," Hailey sighed and bit her lip, "considering they were placed in sections of two, and considering that it's one of the most basic ways to decipher numbers to alphanumerics, I just, well… tried it. That's how you'll have to do it."

"So, how did ye know wha' bank an' who the accounts belonged te?"

She tried to shake off the horrid feeling of Mr. Reins' departure, and focused on proving her innocence. "Well, it's actually only the first eight to eleven characters that are interesting in that case. That's the SWIFT Code, or BIC, Bank Identifier Code. If you head into a bank, trying to figure out whose account it is and at what bank in what country, all you'd find out is that the account you're looking for is located in Zürich, Switzerland and is a numbered account, meaning it has a special level of security. The SWIFT Code would also tell you what bank it is. Though, since it would display that the account is numbered, you would be unable to reach it, no matter what you did, also, it would give you no name. Obviously, if a banker would personally see this code, he would know it would be a safety deposit box. But, as I said, the bank requires a personal meeting." She went on to open up the Interned browser and typed in an address. "I went onto this site to find out what the SWIFT Code meant." She typed in the code from one of the account numbers and hit _search_. After a few seconds, a name popped up. It said _Gerster Capital, Zürich, CH._ "All I did after that, was to search for the bank's homepage." She went on typing in another address, and after a few seconds, a site had loaded on the screen. She clicked around, explaining as she did. Finally, she ended up on a page with a single box, which said _Numéro de Compte_. Hailey copied one of the eight sixty-four-characters-long account numbers and pasted it into the box and pressed _entrer_. They were greeted by a "Welcome, Mr. S. Barnaum," and some additional info, for instance that his deposits had to be changed, withdrawn or added to on set, and couldn't be approached through any other way. Hailey went forth to search for S. Barnaum, and Siegfried Barnaum was the most common name popping up. She let Chibs read the same articles she had read, and he, just as she had, concluded that S. Barnaum had to be Siegfried Barnaum. She showed him information about Gerster Capital, and several information sites told them that that specific bank had served many highly ranked German officers during World War II and had a history of being one of the safest banks in the world. Slowly, she could feel Chibs warming up to her, asking her questions out of sheer interest instead of suspicion, and by the time she'd proven that all eight accounts belonged to S. Barnaum, Chibs had grabbed the piece of paper and tried to deciphered codes for himself.

Pleased by these turn of events, she decided to leave him with his calculations while she started making dinner. Raiding through his fridge and freezer, she found enough ingredients to make a nice chicken stew. She couldn't help but to smile while she cut the ingredients; the relief was almost too much to handle. If Chibs believed her, it would mean he could convey Jax to do the same. Now, if _Jax_ was on her side, it meant she'd have most of the club on her side. That was a big win. She would have to consider this as a big win. She turned to have a glance at Chibs as he sat bent over his piece of paper, scribbling away, and her heart fluttered. His silver stranded hair hung over his eyes, and the glasses was set at the tip of his nose, and his brows were furrowed, creating those wrinkles between them, causing him to look so much more… intense. Perhaps it all made him look slightly older—the glasses, the silver strands, the wrinkles between the eyebrows—but it didn't bother her. In fact, the more she thought about his age, the more she realized that she found it very attractive. She was not the kind of girl who usually fell for guys her age, and had never been. Though, over twenty years apart, well, that was an age difference she'd never considered. However, with Chibs, it was different, as if that was just how it ought to be. And he wasn't _that _old. Not that she knew his exact age, but she guessed it was around forty-five or forty-six. She honestly couldn't see him—the bad Scotsman with those dark, dangerous eyes—with a woman his age. It just wouldn't fit, because he wasn't like that. No, he was supposed to be with someone younger. Someone fiery. Someone with red hair.

She blushed violently and turned back to the stove, cursing herself for being stupid to even think such things. He had a daughter, for Christ's sake! A daughter what could very well be as old as Hailey or even older, for all she knew. And had she thrown away _all_ of her good judgment? She was still not in the clear; he'd still might want to _kill_ her. And there she was, thinking about what kind of woman he would fit together with, a woman that in her head started to look more and more like herself. She felt so pathetic, so silly and stupid and absolutely insane thinking like that. Why would he want her? Why would _she_ want _him_?! He was a biker! A criminal! A _killer_! She was a fucking _brilliant_ Harvard student with top grades, high ambitions and her future set in stone. Why would she even _imagine_ herself with someone like him?

"Wha' about those prime numbers?"

He startled her so much she shrieked and dropped the wooden ladle she used to stir the cooking stew with. She turned to face him; he was standing next to her, leaned against the counter, chewing on a tomato slice, his glasses still on. She hadn't even seen him move! She breathed heavily, and was not at all as amused as he seemed to be. "Don't _do_ that!"

"Aye," he scoffed, "ye were deep in thought, alrigh'!"

She rolled her eyes and returned to stirring the stew. "You can't divide a prime number with anything else but one and itself."

"Yes, ye can," Chibs said. "But ye'd get a half, an' then round it up, right?"

She sighed. "Told you it was more complicated than that. You're not listening to me."

"Oh, yes I am," he disagreed. "I'm jus' curious."

She sighed again, rolling her eyes. "Right, well, there are different takes on the prime numbers. Even Burakowski had different views. One is that all prime numbers are letters, and you find them by taking the two numbers in the prime number, and settling for the middle number. As in fifty-three. That's a prime number. Now, between five and three, we have a two. So, according to that method, the prime of fifty-three would give us a C. That doesn't always work. Take the prime of eighty-nine, for instance; you have no number in between. So, then you have to take the square root of eight plus nine and multiply it by pi. You'd probably get a number with multiple decimals. You simply round it to the closest integer, and there's your letter."

"Tha' didn' seem too complicated," Chibs said, sounding rather surprised.

Hailey chuckled cynically amusedly. "You wanna hear the other way to do it?"

"Nah, I'll try this one." He huffed lightly before going back to his seat, but turned in mid motion and asked, "so, wha' about eleven? Tha's a prime, right?"

"And eleven is the twelfth letter in the alphabet," Hailey said, sounding a bit annoyed though smiling—but Chibs couldn't see that, because he was facing her back. "All prime numbers up to twenty-three are fine as they are. No math needed. Seventeen is the eighteenth letter, and so on."

There was pause before he made a grunt of acceptance and Hailey could hear him sit down and start to scribble again. She stole a glance, and even though she knew better, she simply couldn't deny her attraction to the man. Blushing once more, she turned back to try focusing on the food alone.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Seven to the seventh. Fifty-eight divided by two, divided by two, rounded from half to whole, divided by two, rounded from half to whole, the square root of a prime, zero to nine—there's a letter there somewhere—twenty to ten, x to the pi to the x to the square root of one. The numbers were closing in on him, hiding secret messages about the end of the world, about the beginning of time, about the destiny of the universe, about the blood on his hands, about the slow, steady beat of the Drums of Judgment. The scars on his face had an equation, an angle from ear to ear, connected by the string of the numbers of events from past to present, his darkened mind had a clouded vision of what used to be, an alphanumeric password to unlock whatever secrets he had forgotten along the way, keeping him from making his own choices, his own path. The cross around his neck had a parabola, the beginning of an endless ellipse, the one side just drifting further and further apart from the other, to infinity, much seemingly like his ear-to-ear, everlasting smile. From somewhere, he thought he heard a voice—calling, calling his name—breaking through the front line of armed primes and pies while he had to defend himself only with the sense of a madman and the division of two.

"_Chibs_?!"

He snatched his head up, his vision a bit blurry, images of fives and threes fading away from his retina. Blue eyes stared impatiently and worriedly back at him. He blinked—once, twice—and shook his head. "Oh, I'm sorry, love… got a bit carried away there."

"No kidding," she mumbled while pulling the piece of paper he had scribbled on to her eyes. "Chibs, this isn't making _any_ sense."

He chuckled. "I guess I'm not as fine a mathematician as ye are, love."

She smiled, that smile he had longed to see for so long, that beautiful smile of hers, that timid, yet joyful smile he could only conclude as honest. She was no fraud. She couldn't be. And if she was, he had no idea how to deal with it. It would break him. Jax's words from earlier echoed in his mind; _will you_? So… would he? Would he be able to kill her if necessary? When he made his promise to Jax, he was sure. Now… well, he wasn't so sure anymore. The beating Drums of Judgment were still thudding in his ears, and he suddenly realized, it was the beats of his own heart.

He blinked again, suddenly very confused, as if waking from a deep trance. "Wha' did ye want?"

"Dinner's ready," she said and frowned amusedly.

He raised his brows. "Already? But ye just started makin' it?"

She chuckled. "It's been forty-five minutes, Chibs. Man, no more math for you!"

He huffed and rose to help her make the table. For the first time, he felt the delicious smell of the chicken stew, and saw its soft honey color, sprinkled with some green and some red, parsley and red pepper, and his mouth was watering and his stomach growling. He hadn't realized it was well past dinnertime. Not only did it smell fantastic, but it tasted heavenly, and he wondered, truly wondered, if there was anything this woman was incapable of.

"So," she said, "are you convinced? That I'm not a liar?"

"Well," he said and frowned, "anyone could make up tha' shite about the numbers." He shrugged and stuffed himself with stew and roasted potatoes. The disappointment in her face made him smile comfortingly. "I'm kiddin', love. Aye, I'm convinced."

She sighed out in relief and gave him a murdering glare before she had herself a mouthful of food.

He watched her as she ate, and still, this agony and pain tormented him. Tomorrow, they might decide to give her up to Tyler, and he didn't know how he would vote, because really, what was more important? The life of a young woman he barely knew, or the life of his family? But he wanted to know her. He wanted to know her beautiful mind, the mind that could achieve such greatness though her young age. She was only twenty-four years old, he had to remind himself of that. He had been twenty-two when she was born. _Twenty-two_… when she was born, he had already killed his first man, had already done time, had already won the streets of Belfast with his bare hands and knuckles. When she was born, he had already met Fiona, had already broken up with her and had already started to yearn for her again. When Hailey was born, Chibs was already deeply involved with the Real IRA. He had already chosen his path in life when this beautiful creature before him saw the first light of day.

On the other hand, he thought, there was something about the girl that didn't seem quite right. She was far too intelligent, far too alluring to be that young, that innocent. If he had achieved such gruesome things at the age of twenty-two, what had this girl achieved at the age of twenty-four? How many heart had that girl broken? How many marriages had she destroyed with those eyes? Or perhaps, he was the only one to blame for this; intelligent girls were his weakness. He had always been jealous at Jax for having such a wonderfully smart woman as Tara, and that was what had attracted him to Fiona. However, Hailey was something he'd never seen before. She was sharper than Tara, more defiant than Fiona. She was her own woman, in her own time, and if he wasn't careful, she might have him wrapped around her little finger sooner than he could say Harley Davidson.

When they had finished eating, Chibs dealt with the dishes. Hailey was inspecting his bookcase once again, commenting on his books, and asking where he'd got them and why. "I like te read, believe it or not."

"Did you go to university?" she asked. "Anything in Ireland? England? Scotland?"

"No," Chibs said as he finished up and turned to her. She was sitting in the couch, backwards, so that she leaned her elbows against the back of it.

"How come you're so literate, then?" she asked. "I mean, you quoted Mark Twain, you have this cool collection of classics…"

"Told ye," he smirked. "Ma was a teacher, da was a doctor. I grew up with tha' shite."

"Favorite author?"

He huffed and lighted a cigarette. "Don' know. Yers? Oh, wait, Mark Twain?"

"No," she smiled and rolled her eyes. "Actually, it's JK Rowling. I know, I know, _so_ lame for being a literature student… but hey, what can I say? I love Harry Potter!"

This caused him to laugh. Mainly because, well, he'd read the books as well. But he didn't admit that. Instead, he told her about the very first book he read himself. It was Charles Dicken's _Oliver Twist_, and he read it when he was ten years old. She told him about her first book while he joined her by the couch, and it felt nice to just… talk. Nothing had to be discovered, nothing had to be kept in consideration. He could just listen to her, and learn to know her. It was as if those goddamn numbers had washed his brain, cleansed it from anger and suspicion. She seemed lighter, as well. Not as gloomy, not as frightened, and it gave a whole other shine to her. She was vivacious, passionate, scarily sharp, funny… the list went on and on in his head, and he started to realize why her professor had given her such credit; she was simply brilliant. Then again, she wouldn't even have to be half as smart as she was; her eyes and her smile compensated enough. In the end, he just found himself observing her, not listening, just observing. He wasn't all that interested in her stories, to be honest. He was more interested in the movements of her lips.

**¤(SoA)¤**

She talked. Mainly because she needed to divert her thoughts from those brooding eyes settled so firmly on her. He hadn't said a word in a while, and she had said plenty. She simply couldn't seem to shut up. And the more intense his eyes became, the more she talked, the louder she talked and the more ridiculous she felt. But what could she do, really, when her body told her that the tension was too strong? It was as if she was a piece of metal, trying to fight against a super magnet. It was barely possible, and the deeper his eyes turned, the more she stumbled on her words, saying the wrong things, repeating herself and breaking at certain words. Her hands were trembling, so she tried to move them around as much as possible, gesticulate with every word she said. He didn't move more than flicking his cigarette or stroking his beard. Once in while he let his eyes follow the shape of her, and then return to her face, and once in a while the corners of his mouth curled into a smile. She had repeated herself one too many times when she suddenly cut herself short, a mistake she shouldn't have done, because all it resulted in was her staring wide-eyed at him.

"Ye've had quite some life, haven't ye?" he said, and she wasn't sure whether or not he was serious.

She blushed, but she had to quickly recover. "Oh yes, my autobiography will change lives."

He smiled. "I bet it will." Then he leaned forwards, supporting his elbows on his knees. "Tell me about yer professor. Wha' was yer relation te him?" he said and turned his head to her, his hair falling into his eyes.

She furrowed her brows. "There… isn't that much to tell. He was my professor, I his student."

"No…" He raised his brows, and if she wasn't mistaken, there was a smug smile on his lips. "No _funny business_?"

She huffed. "No. Never. Why?"

He shrugged. "Just wanted te know who I'm dealin' with." Again, there was that smug smile, and her knees trembled so violently, she was sure he would notice.

She shrugged. "He wasn't my type." She then rose, anxious to detach herself from this dangerous temptation. "God, I'm tired. I'm going to bed. Good night."

"Good night, love," he smiled, and there is was again, that word he so often used, and even though she knew he said it to others, she somehow thought that when said to her, he put another value into it, as if he somehow truly meant it.

But maybe she was simply imagining things.

* * *

**Extended A/N:** I just want to make sure you all understand that the _Burakowski Method_ is all fiction, invented by me. It is not practiced, and it is certainly not perfected. I just fooled around with numbers and letters, found a cool way to arrange them, and the rest is history. With that say, I'd still like to emphasize that I did a lot of research about banking in Switzerland, about BIC, SWIFT Codes, numbered accounts and what not._ Gerster Capital_ is not real, obviously. However, I bet most of you do know that there are Swiss banks that deposited funds made out of money stolen by German officers from victims of the holocaust.

And, I spent a lot of time—A LOT—investigating the different combination possibilities with different numbers. Now, I bet some of you might go all, "come on! You've got google!" But hey, when I can do research using only a paper, a pen and my own mind, that's the way I like to do it :) Keeps my head from turning into mush.

So, to show you people who are like me and likes to do things the hard way, here's how I did it;

What I did, was that I started with four numbers; 1234. I wanted to see how many combinations I could get out of these four numbers, and I could use the number how many times I liked. So, I started with 1111, 1112, 1113... and so on, ending with 4444. I counted that there were 64 combinations with 1 as first number, 1111 to 1444. So, I took that number and multiplied it by 4 to get 256. Now, knowing that 64 is 4^3, I concluded that 64x4 would simply be 4^4.

Okay, so that was with four numbers. I went on with removing the four, giving me three numbers; 123. I did the exact same thing and found out that there was 9 combinations with 1 as first number, so I multiplied that by 3 and got 27. Now, I know that 3^2=9, and since 9x3=27, 3^3 has to be 27; the amount of possible combinations using three numbers.

To prove my theory, I did the same thing with 12345. Now, here's the tricky part, because lining up all numbers with 1 as first number, from 11111 to 15555 would take a rather long time. So what I did was to see how many combinations there were with 11 in front, and then I got 125. Now, to get the amout of possibilities until we get to 21111, I had to multiply 125 by 5. That is 625. Now, I could go ahead and multiply that by five and get 3125. To ensure my theory was correct, I simply calculated 3125^1/5 and got the number 5. So, 3125 is indeed 5^5.

The pattern I found was that I could take any amount of "tools" and raise them to the power of any number of "slots" to get the exact amount of how many different combination possibilities there are, and to type that as a mathematical formula, it would be kind of like t^s.

So there you have it, in case you're interested! :) Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Love you all!


	10. Forgive Me, Father

**A/N: **Time for chapter ten, but I tell you, I really don't know how long I'll keep this up.. might soon be every third day, or so. Maybe even longer, with the holidays coming up and all? Maybe there will be a mid season finally..

Anyways; Again, I thank all of my lovely reviewers, those who favorite this story, those who alert it, and of course, those of you who choose to read it anonymously. As long as I can please you guys, and as long as you want me to continue, I shall!

Again, we have a quote from **Metallica**. This time, it's the song _Thorn Within_. Needless to say, it's a great song. And, well, you know the drill. I sincerely urge you all to listen to it, because it's a rather underrated song, and deserves more attention. AND, if you're a really devoted reader, you could even make up your own playlist with the songs featured in the chapters! :D (Wishful thinking..)

Oh well, enough rambling!

Enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Ten**

"_Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned; find me guilty of the life I feel within."  
_— _Thorn Within, Metallica_

_Previously in Boston; _

He was nervously tapping his foot in some inconsistent beat, regularly checking his watch. They were five minutes late now. That didn't usually happen. Mr. Tyler was always on time, so why were they late tonight of all night? It was important. Mr. Tyler had said so. Peter checked his watch again. Six minutes late. His hands were staring to sweat, and his heartbeats were irregular. He knew he shouldn't have dragged Hailey into this, that lovely, beautiful, innocent, sweet, intelligent girl… he should have known she'd figure it all out. And what now? Was she going to report him to the police? No, she wouldn't do that… that would make her an accomplice. Seven minutes. He groaned nervously.

A black, shiny car rolled up to his side, and he quickly stepped inside. The man driving didn't greet him with a hello, but with a dark, rumbling, "Mr. Tyler apologizes for the late arrival. He had some things to prepare."

Peter swallowed and nodded, and the car rolled away. Ten minutes later, they drove into the garage of a luxury hotel, a hotel Mr. Tyler himself owned. The driver, big and sturdy, let Peter out and gestured him to follow. They walked into an elevator, and eleven stories up, they stepped out, and into a long corridor. Windows adored the southern side, showing off the city lights in all its glory, and furthest down, there was a door. The driver knocked.

"Mr. Reins has arrived," he said, and there was a click, and the door glided open soundlessly.

Peter was gestured to enter, which he did, though much more nervous now than before. He stepped into an enormous suite, where men in black suits and shades stood guarding the entrance to what seemed to be some kind of drawing room.

"Mr. Tyler is ready for you now, Mr. Reins," said one of the men in suits, and Peter nodded and hurried inside.

Craig Tyler was sitting in an armchair, sipping a glass of bourbon, holding a Cuban cigar in his hand. "Peter," he greeted with a smile.

"Mr. Tyler," Peter nodded. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, yes," Tyler said. "Please, sit down."

He gestured at another armchair, and Peter took a seat, cautiously aware of the guards outside the door. "You said it was rather important?"

"Yes," Tyler said, grievous in his tone. "Y'see, I've just arrived from Zürich today. I went there with high hopes, Peter, high hopes. But I came home disappointed."

"Oh?" Peter swallowed. He knew from the start accepting this would be dangerous, and why—oh, God, _why_?!—couldn't he refuse those blue, those sensual eyes, begging him for another chance?!

"The codes ya gave me," Tyler started. "The banker I met with was impressed; they _looked_ like the real ones. He said they did belong to his bank, but the computer didn't accept them." He took a deep inhale of his cigar. "The banker said, that I'd been fooled. That the one givin' me those codes, changed 'em. I hired a skilled decipherer in Zürich, but guess what; the _originals_ were changed, as well… they were fakes." The cold stare from the southern man made Peter's heart skip several beats.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"So, Peter," Tyler continued. "Did you? Change 'em?"

"I—" That was the only thing he could say, again and again.

Tyler rolled his eyes. "Anderson! Bring me the Butcher."

"Yes, sir," said one of the guards, and Peter gasped.

"M-mr. Tyler, I swear, I didn't know!"

"Ya didn' know?" he mocked. "Ya didn' know you changed some numbers here and there?"

"It—it was a mistake! I would never—"

"Oh, spear me your whinin'," Tyler spat, and a big, bald man entered the room.

"Mr. Tyler?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, Robert, please," Tyler said delightfully and gestured towards Peter.

He screamed and pleaded as the big man forced him to his feet and forced him into another room. Tyler followed, laughing as he did. Inside the other room, the floor was covered with a plastic sheet, and in the middle of it, stood a wooden chair. The big man forced Peter onto the chair and tied him. He covered his mouth with tape, and stepped away. Craig Tyler placed his glass of bourbon on a shelf, together with the cigar. He then took his expensive jacket off, and rolled up his sleeves.

"So, Mr. Reins," he said while rolling up the second sleeve. "Tell me, how did ya plan for this to play out? Were you goin' to Zürich? Get the money yourself? Buy an expensive house at the Florida Keys?"

Peter couldn't talk, but shook his head rapidly, fear and panic raging in his chest. And his heart was protesting. It was too weak for stress like this. A fist suddenly hit his face, with such force, he felt his nose break, and warm blood poured out of it. He cried, but no one would hear it, anyways. As the blood mingled with the old man's tears, he wanted to just fall through the ground, to another place, a better place.

"So, where are the real codes?" Tyler asked.

Since Peter honestly didn't know, he simply shook his head, sobs being muffled by the tape over his mouth. Another fist hit him, and he yelled, again muffled by the tape.

"Let's try that again," Tyler growled. "Where are the goddamn codes?!"

Peter screamed, yelled with all his might, as he shook his head. He didn't know! For God's sake, he didn't _know_!

Tyler sighed and dried his hands off of Peter's blood with a towel and looked at the big man. "Mr. Butcher, he's all yours."

The big man smiled gruesomely and opened up a suitcase he'd brought with him. Out of it, he pulled a leather apron and put in on, and then he picked up a scalpel. He came to a stand next to Peter, and while the old man screamed panickedly and jerked his head away from the man, Robert the Butcher took a firm grip of his head and directed the scalpel to Peter's left eye.

"I suggest ya not to move," Tyler said amusedly. Then he sighed. "Alright, one more time; where are the codes?"

Taking a deep breath, praying to the Lord for forgiveness, he nodded, slowly not to accidentally clash with the sharp edge of the scalpel, and the object disappeared from view. There was a ripping pain as the piece of tape was torn from his lips, and he yelped. "I don't have them," he said weakly. "I didn't decipher them! A student of mine did! Hailey Reed! She must have given me the fake ones back! She's got them! She's got the real ones!"

"Well, well," Tyler sneered. "A Harvard professor, lettin' such an important thing be solved by a _student_? Must be one hell of a student, right?"

"She's the best," Peter said.

"Where is she?"

"She… she's going to her grandmother in Oakland, California," Peter hurried to say. "I think she's going tomorrow morning, taking the 5AM plane! She should land in Sacramento around noon."

Tyler pulled out a cellphone from his pocket. "What does the girl look like?"

"Red hair, blue eyes," he started, "nice body…"

"Right, so all we have to do is to take in every good lookin' redhead at Sacramento airport," he muttered, and the scalpel was again in his sight.

"My phone!" Peter yelled, and the scalpel disappeared again. "I have pictures of her on my phone!"

"Well, well," Tyler sneered and gestured Robert to take it out, which he did and tossed it to Tyler.

"Go to _My Photos_, and—and there's a folder there named _Hailey_," he sighed, feeling ashamed and embarrassed to ever have to reveal that secret.

As Tyler navigated through the phone, he huffed amusedly. "My, my, Peter! Been a little too crazed about this girl now, have ya? What a sweetbutt, huh? Bet her pussy tastes like strawberries…" He pushed the buttons a couple of times more, and then laughed, "tell me, Peter; how many times have you fucked this girl? Or maybe… ya haven't. You've just wished it, right?" His laugh turned into a smug grin as he dialed a number and put his own phone to his ear. A couple of seconds later, Peter could hear a muffled voice from it. "It's me," Tyler said. "Sometime around noon tomorrow, there will be a girl steppin' off a plane from Boston at the Sacramento airport. I want her. Don't ya dare let her slide. I'll send ya some pictures of her." With that, he flipped the phone closed and glared at Peter. "Now, I can't know for sure whether or not your tellin' the truth… but here's what we're gonna do." He ordered the Butcher to get him another chair, and moments later, he sat down in front of Peter. "Look, Peter, I like you. You're a… hardworkin', downright American who teaches our prosperous young about the ways of the world. You believe in the right race, the white race. You commit to it in admirable ways… that kind of commitment brings tears to my eyes. _Tears_ to my eyes, Peter! So, I'm givin' you a once in a lifetime opportunity; you tell me the absolute truth—no matter what the truth might be—and I'll let you live. I will even throw in the girl for ya. That's right, you tell me the honest truth, and I will make sure you get to fuck that little pussy as much as you like."

Peter didn't believe it at first. Would he? Survive? But the thought of Hailey Reed's soft skin against his was almost more tempting then the thought of life itself. He knew Tyler was a man of his words, and Peter had an advantage being so involved with the White Power movements. He doubted Tyler would break his promise to a true brother. So, after a moment's thought—_My dear Lord God, please forgive me for being so weak, so easily tempted_—he nodded. "Do you promise?"

"I promise."

Peter closed his eyes and took a ragged breath, the vision of Hailey's naked body on his mind, from that time he snuck a peek in through the window of the girls' locker room on the campus. "I was… offered to take on that course when the—the Professor of Cryptography and Deciphering retired, and I, without really knowing much about the subject, accepted. I—I didn't do a very good job, and was just about to resign from it when she—" He cut himself short, remembering the first time he'd laid eyes on that young, redheaded girl as she walked into his lecture hall, those brilliant blue eyes glimmering towards him. "When she sighed up for it."

"And?" Tyler was impatient.

"I—I wasn't very good at it," Peter admitted. "The numbers, the—the different methods… I never really understood any of it. I just… handed out assignments and reused old exams. My colleagues were impressed that I'd taken on such a subject, and… well, I guess I simply didn't have the… _confidence_ of telling them I was a fraud." He took a deep breath. "Word got out, things spun out of control. So, when you contacted me, I was too afraid to be seen as petty. The codes just… sat there, on my desk, for days. I didn't even dare to open the envelope. Then, Hailey cheated on a test, and came to me, desperate for some kind of… chance to redeem herself."

Tyler's eyes were dark. "So, instead of just lettin' her such you dick for an A, you gave her codes worth _billions_ of dollars? Codes _I_ entrusted in you?!"

Peter swallowed hard. The thought of suggesting such a thing to her seemed impossible. The girl was too… no, that would have been impossible. "Yes. I never thought she'd figure this much out. She's bright, she really is, but I never…" He breathed shallowly, his heart starting to really trouble him now. "She is very ambitious. I didn't think she'd stop to reflect upon what I'd given her, really. And I _never_ expected her to change it! Not in a million years!"

"So, the girl's really got 'em?" Tyler growled.

Peter nodded. "Yes… I don't know if she saved them, or threw them away… but, she's got them."

Tyler nodded, his face relaxing a bit. Then he rose. "Well, thank you" he said while unrolling his sleeves, "for tellin' me the truth."

"You'll keep your promise, won't you?" Peter hurried to ask. "About letting me live? About…" He swallowed. "About giving me Hailey?"

Tyler frowned and smiled. "Sure." He then put his jacket on, grabbed the cigar and the bourbon, and turned to the Butcher. "Make it quick, make it effortless. I wanna get outta here as soon as possible. Call our friends in California. I'm comin' there tomorrow mornin'." With that, he left the room, and Peter gasped, calling his name.

"You promised!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "You bastard! You _promised_!" Another piece of tape covered his mouth, but Peter continued screaming, fighting with his whole body, with every fiber of his being, against the ropes that bound him to the chair. Panic was overtaking his body as he saw the big man pick out a handgun from the suitcase, screwing on a long silencer. With a huge grin, the Butcher came to a stand in front of him, the gun raised to eye level with Peter. He stared the muzzle, right in the eye, and screamed—louder, louder—and the last thing he ever saw, was the greeting of that bullet, in the form of a lovely, forget-me-not eye.

_Present;_

She had been lying awake for a while, listening to Chibs getting up, making coffee, working out, reading the newspaper… she was afraid to get out there and meet him. Not that she was that afraid of him any longer, not exactly, but she was afraid of what might happen inside of her. She still remembered his eyes on her last night, and how it made her feel. She had seen that look before, but not like that. Not that… intense. Juice's words echoed in her head, that Chibs always looked like that, had that brooding, dark look, but she simply couldn't just take that it would be… well, like that. He didn't want her. Why would he? A man like Chibs would have any woman he wanted, because women loved the bad boy attitude, the dark, the dangerous. So why would he want _her_? She was annoying, she was offensive, she was arrogant, she was nonchalant… taking care of her was probably more like baby-sitting for him, and yet, she couldn't let go of the look he'd given her last night, the look that made her knees tremble so violently, she didn't know whether or not she would be able to get to the bed without falling. So would she be able to look at him today, without blushing, without trembling? She had been in love before; this was definitely not that. She wasn't in love. Though, the tension was there, only, it was a bit skewered. This attraction was raw, lacking of any emotional bond in the sense of happiness and wellbeing. She didn't know whether to fear him or not, whether to trust him or not, and she didn't know what went on in that head of his. Did she really convince him yesterday, or did he just say that to lessen her anxiety? Would she ever know? And yet, there was that strong, electrical pull

Slowly, she made her way out of bed, put on a pair of shorts and a blue t-shirt Gemma had brought, and made her way to the kitchen where Chibs was reading the newspaper.

He looked up over his glasses, and smiled. "Mornin'."

She smiled back. "Morning."

He raised a brow and motioned to her legs. "Seems like yer knees is healin' just fine."

"Yeah," she said, turning away to hide her blushing cheeks, and grabbed a cup from the cupboard and poured herself some coffee.

"I've been thinkin'," Chibs said, and she turned. "There might be a way we can all win on this."

She furrowed her brows and sat down in front of him. "What do you mean?"

Chibs sighed and put away his glasses. "When Tyler said tha' he'd go away if we gave ye over, Jax said tha' we didn' have ye. So, _Tyler_ then told us to find ye."

Hailey let the words sink in before she narrowed her eyes slightly. "You're saying that… you can buy time by saying that you'll try to find me?"

Chibs shrugged. "Don' know if it'll work. But it might give us enough time te take ye somewhere safer than here."

She smiled faintly, flattered by his caring ideas. They could cause a lot of troubles to the Sons of Anarchy, and she suspected he knew that. She bit her lip. "Where's safer than here?"

He huffed a laughed. "Don' know. Italy? Ye wanted te go there, right?"

"Yeah, but how am I gonna get there?" she scoffed. "I don't have any money, I don't have any ID, I don't have a shit."

"Don' ye worry about tha'," he murmured. "Important thing is tha' ye get out of here."

"You sure Tyler hasn't got connections in Italy?" she frowned. "Chibs, five billion dollars is a lot of money. I am the only one—the _only _one—with the correct codes. I don't think he'll let that slide."

Chibs clenched his jaw. "We could set up things for ye back in Belfast," he said. "Give ye a new name."

"They know how I look," she muttered.

He huffed. "They're all redheaded in Ireland."

Knowing he was joking, she gave him a grim smirk. "Right." She sighed and fiddled with the cup. "Honestly… I don't know if I wanna go." Not daring to look up to see his reaction, she continued, "I've kind of… acclimatized here. You know… Juice, Bobby, Chucky… you…" She shrugged. "I've sort of grown used to you guys, and I feel, well, safe, I guess."

She could hear him sigh deeply, and finally, she dared to look up. He was looking away, with that troubled look, with those wrinkles between his furrowed brows. He plucked his teeth with his tongue and then turned to her. Slowly, he nodded. "Alright."

She frowned, confusedly. "Alright what?"

"We'll make it work," he said. "Ye stay here. We make it work. We'll keep ye safe. I'll keep ye safe."

The sincerity in his eyes caused her heart to skip a beat or two, and she quickly looked down into her cup again, the words echoing clear in her head; _I'll keep ye safe_.

**¤(SoA)¤**

The girl seemed mellow, or was it because she barely looked at him? She just sat there, staring into her cup, her red hair veiling her face like a curtain, one side of it placed behind her one ear. She was so beautiful; there was no point in denying that anymore. The t-shirt she was wearing was hugging her tightly, emphasizing her shapes, and he found himself just wishing he could touch her; her face, her hips, her waist, her lips… they were both silent for a rather long while before Chibs cleared his throat and went to the sink, putting down his used cup. He turned to face her back. "Ye know," he started, but sighed, not really knowing how to continue. "I will have te convince Jax. I dunno if he's gonna make this unanimous or not. If not… I can' promise anythin'. If Jax votes against ye, so will Tig. Dunno if Phil dares te oppose Jax. Clay is against ye. Don' know about Happy."

She sighed and rose, she too putting her half-empty cup in the sink. She stayed there, by his side, and looked him in the eye. "I trust you. If you can't convince him, you can't convince him. It's as simple as that. It won't be your fault." There was hurt in her eyes, hurt he did not like. He wanted to tell her it was all going to be alright, but he couldn't, because he didn't know whether or not is was going to. He flickered his eyes from hers to her lips and back again, several times. The silence between them… it was filled with buzzing, like an electric current pulling them together. A pink shade covered her cheeks, and her breath was ragged, as if she didn't know whether to be afraid or not, but she didn't look away. He wanted to touch her, tell her not to be afraid, but for some reason, he couldn't. He just… couldn't. Was it that stupid, fucking morale he'd had shoved down his throat when he was young? About God? About the greater good? When the fuck did he ever care about following that cross around his neck? And if he would ever start being a good Catholic, why now of all times?!

Suddenly, he saw her raising her hand—hesitantly at first, and then determinedly—and softly placing a finger on his left scar, trailing it slowly, blue eyes following, from his ear to the corner of his mouth, so softly it burned him, more than it did receiving the scars. But this was a different burn, a deep, awakening burn that went all the way out through his fingers, into his toes, stirred inside of him and captured him with all its might. He leaned closer to her, his hunger almost tearing him apart with the slow burn of her hand on his cheek. He set his eyes on her lips, those pink, perfectly full lips, parted as in awe, that were so alluring, so tempting. He leaned closer, and she seemed to be reaching up. Just a few inches more—why couldn't he just clash into her?! That's what he wanted! But it wouldn't do, no, because this girl required tenderness and safety. That was why he was so surprised when her hand moved from his cheek to his neck, and she reached up to him, slowly. He thought, he really did, that their lips would meet—he could almost feel them!—when suddenly, a rapping on the door sliced through the tense silence, and she pulled away, like a deer being frightened by a branch snapping, and she stared wide-eyed at him, before rushing into the bedroom. Clenching his jaw firmly, cursing whoever dared to interrupt this perfect moment, Chibs grabbed a gun form the kitchen island and loaded it as he came to a stand by the door. It rapped again, this time harder.

"_It's me_," said a voice, "_Juice!_"

Chibs didn't know whether to laugh or to cry, to break the boy's neck or to cut his balls off. He tore the door open, and there he stood, Juice, with those worried eyes. "Wha'?"

"I need to talk to you, man," he said. He was breathing rapidly; something had upset him.

Chibs rolled his eyes. "Now's not the time, Juice."

"It's important." Juice clenched his jaw, and Chibs rolled his eyes and stepped aside, allowing the boy to enter. He looked around. "Where's Hailey?"

"I'm here," she said as she came out from the bedroom, as if nothing had happened.

"Good," Juice said and shifted from one foot to another. "You need to hear this." Then, he looked at Chibs, but continued talking to Hailey. "Did you know these guys were planning on selling you out?"

Chibs crossed his arms and lowered his brows.

Hailey, on the other hand, sighed. "Juice, what are you talking about?"

"They were going to give you up to Tyler," Juice continued, still keeping a firm glare at Chibs, and Chibs glared back. Juice would never win a stare-down with Chibs. They both knew that.

Slowly and calmly, Hailey grabbed Juice's arm in her hands, smiling softly. "I know, Juice."

Confused, he snatched his head at her. "You _what_?"

"I told her," Chibs said, still glowering. "Didn' see tha' comin', did ye?"

Suddenly, the boy seemed uncertain, almost afraid. He looked apologetically at Chibs. "I—I'm sorry, man! I didn't know!"

"How did ye hear tha'?" Chibs asked, concluding this was so typical Juice, he didn't even bother being angry.

"I… I heard Jax speak to Bobby," Juice admitted. "Didn't hear all of it, just that we were having a vote about giving her up." Then he looked at Hailey. "You showed him, right?!"

She nodded, still calmly. "I showed him."

"And?" His eyes flickered between Hailey and Chibs, worriedly, excitedly.

Chibs rolled his eyes. "I shoved tha' damn computer out the window an' told her te get ready te meat her maker." When Juice's eyes widened, he once again rolled his eyes. "Ye bloody idiot! Of course I believed her!"

Relief spread in Juice's face. But then he gasped. "So, what are we gonna do?!"

Chibs glared tiredly at him. "Well, we're gonna have a vote."

"I know that," Juice muttered, "but what are we gonna _do_?! What if the majority votes against her?!"

"Then they vote against me," she said softly, stroking his arm.

A shot of jealousy spread through Chibs, as he watched her tender movements on Juice's arm, and that soft, caring look she gave him. He didn't deserve it. He didn't deserve any of it. But he rolled his eyes, partly at Hailey's sick sweetness towards the moron, and partly at himself for being such a moron. What had happened earlier might never happen again, he didn't know. And if they were to hand her over to Craig Tyler, it would most certainly never happen again.


	11. Your Chosen One

**A/N:** Right. Another chapter, on time. So far, I'm on time. But, I've said it before, and I'm going to say it again; I don't know how long I'll keep this pace up.. oh well.

Again; thank you all for your lovely reviews! I'm completely overwhelmed by your lovely words! Truly, I am! You're all so nice! :)

This chapter is graced by another quote from the lovely** Mumford and Sons**. This time, the song is called _Broken Crown_, a superb song that will truly channel your emotions. You know the drill; listen to the song. And I have a challenge for you; what song would you like me to use a quote from? Should you know the perfect one, please, share with me!

Anyways.. this chapter is sort of an inbetweener. It's a transportation from point A to point B, and yet, it will contain small, subtle things that will spice it up, like every dish needs some salt.

Hope you all enjoy it!

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**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Eleven**

"_Touch my mouth and hold my tongue; I'll never be your chosen one."  
_— _Broken Crown, Mumford and Sons_

She tapped her fingers nervously on the table. She hated the suspense, the horrible feeling of certainty that things would go wrong. She would be handed over, and for some reason, she wasn't sure Chibs would stand up for her. The whole day she had wandered about the club house, trying to keep herself busy by helping Chuck and Gemma, arguing with Tig, calming Juice… she had for the first time met Jax's wife Tara, and their two boys, Abel and Thomas. She had connected with Tara, though the woman seemed rather distant, as if she didn't want to involve herself too much with Hailey. But she enjoyed spending time with the boys, and she and the older one, Abel, spent an hour or two playing hide and seek.

She tried to avoid Chibs as much as possible; she didn't want to foolishly stumble on her words or lose concentration whenever he passed her. The event from earlier popped into her mind, again and again. What _was_ that? It was as if she could barely remember what happened, as if she had been hypnotized. But she remembered the feel of his face against her hand, the faded scar underneath her fingers, and the pull that seemed too strong. Had it not been for Juice, she wasn't sure what could have happened, because she wasn't in control of herself. She wasn't in control of anything. When she closed her eyes, she saw Chibs closing in on her, and just when she didn't want to open her eyes again, she forced herself to, trying to wipe out that whole situation. The last thing she wanted, was to be defenseless in his presence. She was well on her way there, but she would fight it.

They never went back to the apartment that afternoon. Chibs had some stuff to do with Jax the others, and Hailey had to stay in the club house, with Chuck and the prospects. She was a bit worried, she couldn't deny that, but she soon found things to do, and time flew by. When the men returned, it was time for what they called _Church_. Hailey supposed it was then they'd decide upon her fate. Was she to stay under their roof, of was she to be handed over to Craig Tyler?

So now she was sitting there, tapping her fingers on the table. Weren't they done yet? They'd been there for a long time. She hadn't heard much. Nothing, to be honest. She pulled her knees to her chin and sighed heavily. It was a bit chilly, and her bare legs and arms were knotting. She heard the front door open and close, and two women came strolling in, both with their hair dyed blond, their breasts far from natural, their lips puffed up and hideous… in fact, these women were probably plastic from head to toe; like walking barbies. They had a conversation. About what, though, Hailey didn't know. And she couldn't care less. Though, in the middle of it, they stopped, and looked over at Hailey, and both of their faces distorted into something like disgust before they returned to their previous conversation. Hailey huffed in annoyance and pulled her knees closer to her. The door opened and closed again, and more people were pouring in, men as women. After ten minutes or so, a little more than twelve people had filled the club house, the majority of them were women; young, pretty girls with too short skirts, too high heels and too revealing cleavages. In the small crowd, Chuck came trotting.

"Hey man!" one of the men said as Chuck passed him by. "They're still at Church?"

Chuck nodded. "They're probably done soon. Have yourselves a drink." He then continued to Hailey. "O, my fair lady, I see thy sadness glooming over thy head like the imminent shadow of despair!" He imitated old Shakespearian British accent just spot on, and made Hailey smile. "Pray, what is the matter?" He sat down on the sofa, with a worried frown on his face. He always went in for what he did.

"I'm alright," Hailey smiled. "I'm just… waiting for my judgment."

He sighed, losing his sixteenth century posture. "Yeah, I heard about the vote."

"Well, I'm prepared for the worst, I think," she sighed. And she was. Prepared for the worst. If they'd decide to give her up, she would simply split. Maybe Juice would help her, give her some money, a gun… if these people—if _Chibs_!—were going to give her up, there was no point in staying any longer than necessary.

Chuck seemed anxious. "You know, I don't think they'll do it. Jax is clever; he'll figure something out. It's not his style to just give in like that."

"Let's hope not," Hailey sighed. Then she looked towards the bar. The two blondes that had looked so disgustedly at her were behind the bar. "Why are there so many people here?"

"It's Friday," Chuck shrugged. "There's usually a party on Fridays, after Church."

Hailey nodded. "Oh." Then there were sounds of chairs against floor, and the doors to the Chapel swung open, and the bikers poured out, Tig in the lead, greeting the crowd—especially the women—with outstretched arms. Hailey felt her heartbeat speed up; there was Juice. He seemed worried, but as the pretty women came into his sight, that worry soon disappeared. Bobby looked concerned, as well, but not as if they'd just passed a death sentence—not that she knew what that looked like. One after one, they poured out; Happy, Phil, Clay… Chibs and Jax exited last. Despite her fear of losing control, she fastened her eyes on Chibs, hoping he would give her a sign, anything, to confirm her safety, but nothing. He didn't even look her way. No, he was too busy walking up to the bar, ordering a whisky from one of those plastic barbies, and smiling roguishly at her. Hailey clenched her jaw. So, flirting with Miss Plastic Fantastic was more important than telling Hailey whether or not she'd live? Well fuck that. She determinedly rose from her seat and strode right up to the bar. People were goggling after her, as if they thought her to be one of those skanks. One of the men that weren't of the MC winked at her and eyed her, and she shot him a disgusted glare as she came to a stand next to Chibs. He was still flirting with that plastic, and Hailey crossed her arms and cleared her throat. He turned to her, almost as if surprised to find her there. "So?" she asked impatiently. The plastic behind the bar frowned disgustedly, and Hailey shot a dirty glare back.

"Excuse me, darling, but we were having a conversation," said the plastic, motioning towards Chibs, and gave her a smug grin.

Hailey raised her brows, pulled out a napkin and a pen and handed them over to her. "Here, take this. When you've finished spelling 'conversation', you can have him back." Without caring too much about the offended gasp from that plastic bitch, Hailey turned back to Chibs and set her face hard.

He rolled his eyes and pulled her aside. "Wha' the matter, love?"

Hailey opened her mouth as to scold him, but ended up just looking ridiculously furiously surprised. "What's the m—I've waited for two _fucking_ hours outside that goddamn room, waiting for my _fucking_ verdict! And what do you do? Huh? I'll tell you what you do; instead of coming to me afterwards, telling me whether or not I'm in the clear, you go to the _bar _to have yourself a _drink_ and flirt with that plastic _skank_! _That's_ what you do!"

Either shocked by her furious confrontation or amused by it, he just pulled his brows together and slowly raised one of them while looking at her. "Ye really think I'd put ye up fer slaughter?"

She just stared at him, uncomprehendingly. Was he telling her that she was in the clear? "So… it's all good?"

"Well, no," he said. "We will accept the terms; we'll hand ye over."

Hailey's heart stopped for a second.

But Chibs smirk appeared the second after. "But we'll have te find ye first."

She let out a big sigh of relief, and covered her face with her hands. Such relief! "Thank you," she whispered through her hands, not knowing whether or not Chibs caught any of it.

"Oh no," he said, pulling her into an embrace. "Thank Jax. He suggested it before I even got te time te say anythin'."

She just stood there, sniffing his leather jacket, letting his hands' circular movements on her back fill her with calm and warmth—and butterflies, those fucking butterflies. The affectionate hug lasted for a minute or so before Chibs pulled away, sighing.

"Why don' ye enjoy yerself tonigh', love?" he asked. "Have yerself some wine, relax… read Shakespeare with Chucky!"

Hailey wanted to give him a snide comment, but she was far too horrified by the fact that they were staying. At least, that was how she interpreted his "enjoy yourself tonight". Was they going to party all night? She frowned. "I don't wanna drink with these people!"

Chibs raised a brow. "'These people' are me family."

"I'm not talking about the MC, Chibs," she sighed and rolled her eyes. "I'm talking about the others. The girls showing off their butts with too short skirts, the men drooling after them, looking at _me_ as if I'm one of them! I'll go mad if I have to stay here the whole night!"

He sighed. "Look, they're Lyla's friends. Most of 'em come from Nero's. They're harmless."

"See," Hailey scowled, "I have no idea who Lyla is, who Nero is, and frankly, I don't wanna hang around people I don't trust, taking the situation I'm in, okay? Can you understand that?"'

He rolled his eyes. "Nero is fine. He's loyal. Lyla is family. She's an Ol' Lady, a widow. We take care of her, she's one of us, an' don' ye dare te offend her."

Hailey huffed. "Why would I offend her?"

Chibs motioned towards the plastic behind the bar who'd now found Happy instead of Chibs. "Askin' her to spell out 'conversation' was rude, Hailey. She was offended."

She clenched her jaw, not suspecting _that_ to come back and bite her in the butt. "She annoyed me."

"So ye patronize her?" Chibs raised his brows.

Hailey huffed and crossed her arms, feeling her cheeks flushing. She knew it had been an unnecessary comment, but Chibs didn't see the looks that woman had given her ever since she stepped into the club house. "Well, let's just say that it's my way of slapping people in the face."

"Aye, but ye know, those girls' way o' slappin' people in the face," he said, "is te slap people in the face. If yer not careful, ye migh' end up with a tooth missin'. I've seen it happen."

She was getting more and more annoyed and uncomfortable with this conversation. Being scolded like a child wasn't something she enjoyed. She glared at him. "Are you done?"

He cracked up in a smile, shaking his head. "Don' be so grumpy, love." He brought a hand to her face, and she flinched slightly by the touch, the tingling, burning touch, gazing up at him in awe. Was it happening again? He had a soft expression on his face as he stroked his thumb over her cheek, his brown eyes flickering between hers and her lips. "No one here wants te hurt ye, an' if they do, they'll have te deal with me. Alrigh'?"

Paralyzed by his hand on her cheek, by his eyes on hers, by her trembling knees, she couldn't do else but to nod foolishly. Slowly, he leaned forwards, and she prepared herself for first degree contact, but his lips settled for her forehead instead of her lips, and even though she felt somehow cheated, she was also relieved. This was not the time nor place for such a thing. Though, she had to admit it would be kind of nice to see the face of that plastic afterwards. But no, it was good it never came to that.

Chibs gave her a smile before walking away, and Hailey sighed. She needed to sit down, to regain her strength, and she cursed herself under her breath. Why, God, _why_?! Why did that man make her this weak? It wasn't logical! Nothing in him would ever appeal to her under any other circumstances! Slowly, she made her way to a chair, the closest she could find, and she sat down with her face set hard. She didn't want to accidentally invite anyone to sit down, and she didn't want to be mistaken for one of the skanks.

And still, she wasn't left alone.

"Hey, baby." Gemma sat down by her side, lighting a cigarette. "Heard about the vote."

"Yeah, well, what can you do, you know," Hailey muttered and shrugged her shoulders. "I just have to suck it up and be a woman about it. Be smart about it."

Gemma puffed out white smoke and turned to look at her with sharp eyes. "Don't be too smart, though."

Hailey rolled her eyes. "I know, I know; I could get confused with stupid people."

Slowly, Gemma shook her head. "No, baby. Not this time. The reason you shouldn't be too smart on this, is that these boys, they are simple, but unforgiving. One little slip, baby, that's all it takes."

Hailey clenched her jaw, trying her hardest not to display her worry. She knew that trusting these guys would mean having to tread careful, but hearing Gemma tell her that she'd only need to make one little mistake, and all of their trust would go down the drain, well, that was sort of alarming. She was completely in their mercy now; they could decide to turn her over any time they liked, and she had barely a chance in the world of making it on her own out there. She could dye her hair, get herself some fake papers, but there was that money problem. Well, it wasn't really a problem; she had the key to billions of dollars. But she had no money _now_. Taking a deep breath, chewing on the insides of her cheek, she looked at Gemma. "I need a drink."

**¤(SoA)¤**

Her lips… he wanted to feel her lips. He wanted to feel her skin under his fingers again, because that had been an experience he couldn't quite explain. It had been electrical, it had been chemical. It was way better than any drug he'd ever taken. Her skin… but he was torn. Torn between his desires and his mind. The girl was too young for him. Not that he'd never slept with younger women before—oh, he wasn't a saint. But Hailey was different. He couldn't just have his way with her. No, if he was to have her, he would _have_ her. For the first time since he came to America, he saw Old Lady-material in a woman. But the fact it was _Hailey _made his heart ache with sadness. Could it have been any less suiting? Negative. She was the opposite of everything he and his family were. She would never be able to stand living this life, and he would never be able to stand living any other life. So, it was a hopeless case. But her skin under his fingers…

"Hey, man!" Tig sat down next to Chibs. "You look gloomy! What's up?"

"Nothin's up, Tiggy," Chibs muttered and drank the last of his third glass of whisky.

"Well, maybe that's the problem, then!" Tig laughed and patted his shoulder. "Come on! Ray's here! I bet she'd _love_ some alone-time with her favorite Scotsman!"

Chibs hissed. Oh, he'd had enough of that tramp to last for a lifetime.

"Fine," Tig shrugged. "What about Jess, then? No? Well, what would satisfy you tonight, then?" Tig scanned the area, but soon settled on Chibs. "You're not yourself, man. Pussy and booze… that's _you_, man! You love this shit! What happened?"

Chibs shook his head. "Just… goin' through some rough times, brother."

Tig sighed, switching from one of his many personalities to another. "Whatever's troubling you, it's really troubling you. You need to deal with that shit, man. And if you don't wanna tell me, you don't wanna tell me. I'm fine with that. But if you feel the need to share, I'm here for you, bro."

Chibs nodded. "Thanks."

Tig let out another sigh and lightened a cigarette. "It's all fucked up, isn't it? I mean, here we are, trying to indulge ourselves when there's a war goin' on outside our fuckin' front door. Jax in business with Pope…" He slowly shook his head, a face of resentment staining him, "I'll never forgive him for that."

Chibs looked at his brother. "Jax has no choice, mate. He got ye out safely from jail."

"Yeah, well," Tig said and huffed out some smoke, "it should've been me in there, instead of Opie."

"Opie died with Donna an' Piney," Chibs muttered and tapped his finger on his empty glass. "There was nothin' left for him here. He knew he would die."

Tig furrowed his brows and looked at Chibs. "Opie had two beautiful kids at home, and a porn star as wife! Hell, if I could just have my girls—" He stopped himself and slowly fiddled with the leather bracelets he had on his wrists, one with a D and one with a T, the initials of his deceased daughter Dawn, and seemed lost in thoughts. "I would trade everything I own, my own life, to see both of them together again, alive."

Chibs nodded. The thought of losing his Kerrianne, again, was still something that haunted him late at night. He could very well understand Tig's pain, even though Kerrianne was alive and well.

"You know," Tig said, "I sort of see Dawn in her. In Hailey, I mean. That same fierceness…" He huffed a laugh. "That girl makes me smile, Chibby. Can't believe we're letting her go."

"We're not," Chibs said shortly.

"We don't know that," Tig said. "But I think she's telling the truth, man. I don't think we should give her to Tyler. I think he'll use her and kill her."

"He's not gonna touch her," Chibs muttered. "Not as long as she lives under _my_ roof."

"Yeah, I," Tig started, "I saw your little display of fondness earlier. That hug, that kiss on her forehead… tell me the truth, Chibby, is there something going on?"

"No," Chibs said. "The girl needed some affection. Tha's all."

"Affection…" Tig smirked. "Yeah, sure she did. Now, I'm gonna get myself some _affection_." And just like that, he switched back and rose from his seat to pull a passing woman to him, and just do what Tig did best.

Chibs watched him wander off with the woman, and he sighed, rose and went to the bar to get himself another whisky. Had he had enough? Well, some might think so, but he still had far too many problems in his head for stopping. He needed to wipe them out, utterly and completely. The blonde woman greeted him with a smile. He couldn't remember her name.

"Havin' a rough night, sweetie?" she asked, pushing her chest out and pouting her lips.

Chibs huffed. "Somethin' like tha'."

"Oh, darling," she purred, leaning over the bar. "Do you need some special treatment?" Her eyes were hungry, her lips were wet, and her tits were almost popping out her tight top. Even though she didn't really attract him, he couldn't deny that there was a desire inside of him, even though that desire was directed to someone else. But this woman was willing. Hell, she was close to jumping him right there, right then. Sweeping the new whisky in one go, he motioned her to follow him, and that same predatory smile that appeared on each and every one of those Crow-Eaters' lips, appeared on hers.

**¤(SoA)¤**

It was Hailey's third glass of wine, and Gemma's seventh shot of tequila. They laughed, loudly, while viciously commenting the slutty looking women surrounding them.

"You used to be one of _these_?!" Hailey gasped.

"Well, we looked a bit different back then," Gemma said and shrugged. "But the main goal was the same; fuck your way to Old Ladyhood."

"Okay, okay, so really, what is an 'Old Lady'?" Hailey scoffed.

"It's the wife or steady girlfriend of one of the members," Gemma explained. "Tara's an Old Lady. I'm an Old Lady."

Hailey nodded, feeling a bit giggly about most things. "But isn't that like… you know, a bit sexist? I mean, being called an _Old Lady_? As if a wife can't be young and hot?"

Gemma laughed and shook her head. "Being an Old Lady, you get respect. All these sluts… they've got nothing on you if you're an Old Lady. You're their boss. You tell them to get the hell out of here, and they'll have no choice."

Hailey sighed. "You seem like such a strong woman, Gemma… how could you end up here?"

Gemma shrugged. "I married young. I was just eighteen when I met John. He was double my age, but I had never felt so loved and adored in my entire life. I was a Queen in his eyes."

"And now you're the Queen of his MC," Hailey concluded. "Look, I get that you might have chosen this life because of love… but did you never want to do anything else? Become something?"

"Oh, baby," Gemma smiled, "I become exactly what I wanted."

Somewhat disappointed by the answer, Hailey nodded. "Right. Well, I wanna be… the next Einstein. Not really Einstein… but I wanna make a difference. I wanna find messages from the past, I wanna change the world!"

"Those are high ambitions," Gemma said. "We all wanna change the world, baby."

Nodding, Hailey rose. "I need some water." She walked up to the bar, expecting to find the nasty blonde there, but it was Phil who'd taken the spot as bartender. She looked around, but the slut was gone. Probably fucking someone, was Hailey guess. She rolled her eyes grabbed herself a glass and went into the kitchen to fill it with water. It was quieter in the kitchen. The music was muffled, and the talking and laughing wasn't nearly as loud. Her head was a bit fuzzy, and she knew she'd wake up with a killer headache if she stayed for any longer. Sighing, she decided to find Chibs.

He wasn't in the main room with the others, nor was he outside having a smoke. She asked Juice, but he didn't know. She asked Jax, but he didn't know. The others were too busy drinking or screwing around. Annoyed, she searched through the premises, praying he hadn't passed out anywhere, in some kind of whisky shock. Not that she thought he could possibly have too much whisky—he was probably bottle fed with it when he was a baby. She went past the toilets, and suddenly, she heard moans and kissing. Ashamedly curious, she slowly pressed her ear against the door. The moans were female, too inconsistent for intercourse but too intense for simple make out. Outrageously bold by the wine, she slowly and soundlessly opened the door; she just wanted to see who'd have the common sense of doing it in private. She peeked into the room. First thing she saw was that blonde hair, that fake blond hair, so absolutely overly dyed, the hair looked as if it would fall off any second. It was Miss Plastic Fantastic, and as Hailey opened the door, just half an inch more, she could see how the plastic was cradling a head in her arms, pressing it against her naked chest, against her horridly unreal breasts. It was a man, but all she could really see, was dark hair. But the plastic grabbed the hair, silver strands was visible between her fingers. She pulled the head back, and Hailey gasped. The deeper scar was the one she saw, framing his cheek, from his ear to the corner of his mouth, and she felt a tight, suffocating pain in her chest. The exposed couple held their gazes for a second, before their lips clashed together, and Chibs grabbed the plastic's wrists roughly and put them above her head.

Hailey staggered backwards, the door still an inch open. Horrified by what she'd just witnessed and confused and hurt by the raging feelings inside of her, tears welled up in her eyes, unwanted tears, and she rushed back towards the main room. All she could think was, "_you bastard, how could you?_" and while that main thought was raging through her head, that small voice furthest back in the head cynically reminded her that she couldn't be jealous, since there wasn't anything between the two of them. But had she fought against her own judgment and lost for nothing? Was he the scum she first thought him to be? She didn't want to believe it, and yet, she had her proof. He was just as much a pig as any other man. It didn't matter which man she met, they were all the same. They were all horny, greedy bastards, and she knew she shouldn't be surprised. But the hurt was overwhelming and surprised her. She wanted to believe it to be because of the wine, but it was hard for her to convince herself. Avoiding as many as she could, she searched through the club house until she'd caught up with Juice. He was outside, having a smoke with one of the prospects. She rushed to him, not even caring about her tears.

He, on the other hand, was horrified to see her cry. "What's happened?!"

"Doesn't matter," Hailey sobbed. "Just take me back to Chibs', please!"

Seemingly confused, Juice put his cigarette out and pulled her into an embrace. "Don't cry! What's going on?"

"It's just this place," she sobbed against his chest. He didn't ask her any more questions, and for that, she was ever so grateful. He took her back to Chibs' apartment, knowing there was a spare key hidden in the garage, and even though it was the last place she wanted to be at, it was the only place where she felt at home. She supposed it was mainly because of duty Juice stayed with her, but she didn't mind. It was quite the opposite, actually. She was glad he wanted to keep her company, keep her mind occupied. She had crawled under the covers in the bed, not willing to ever get up, and Juice had lied down next to her, though on top of the covers. They talked for a long while—or, Juice talked. Hailey couldn't. But he talked about all kinds of things, some things that made her laugh and some things that simply made her listen in wonder. She found herself thinking that Juice actually was rather intelligent. Not intelligent as in mathematician or linguistic expert intelligent, but intelligent as in philosophical and deep, and for some reason, she believed it was a side he hadn't shown to his brothers.

She let his theories about the world order and the unconscious be her lullaby, and soon enough, she'd drifted off into a very much needed and relieving sleep, escaping the hurtful reality, escaping her involuntary heartache. Escaping the fact that what had happen earlier that day, would never happen again.


	12. Ordinary Broken Heart

**A/N: **My dearest, loveliest readers, Christmas time is upon us (and the end of the world, as well, if the Mayans are to trust—damn you, Alvarez!) and I very sorry to tell you this, but this will be sort of a **mid season finale**. But don't fret! I promise you to update sometime during the **first week of 2013**, and then perhaps—_perhaps!_—I'll do a double update, as a celebration to still be alive. I can't promise anything, though. It all depends on how much spare time I'll have during Christmas.

And what better way to leave you for a couple of weeks than with a quote from the very same song I started with, namely _Good Day_ by **The Dresden Dolls**. Go listen to it, at once!

Alright, now, please enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Twelve**

"_You'd rather be a bitch than be an ordinary broken heart."  
_— _Good Day, The Dresden Dolls_

Fully aware of yesterday evening's events, Chibs had opened his eyes the morning after on one of the sofas in the club house. He could still feel the bitter sting of the woman's hand on his cheek, and her curses and cries echoed worriedly in his head. _Asshole_ was evidently a very popular word for that woman, since he could recall her calling him that at least five times last night. Once when he'd told her to calm down; they weren't animals. Once when he'd commented on her very curious tattoo on the inside of her thigh; a male genital directing towards hers. Once when he'd corrected her grammar… the other times had been when he'd told her he was no longer in the mood. Not even when she'd straddled him naked did he feel the least bit excited. The slap came when he told her, rather irritably, that he was particularly in no mood for American white trash pussy like hers. The slap had been just, he had to admit that. Normally, he didn't offend women like that; it was unnecessary and cruel. But yesterday had been a bad day. And it had been bad for more than one reason, and somehow, _Hailey_ had been _all_ the reasons. He vaguely remembered her telling him she didn't want to be there, and he wished he'd just accepted it, taken her home and hoped for the best, because even now, when the alcohol was out of his system and when he'd had time to sleep on it, he still wanted to feel her skin under his fingertips. He still wanted to brush her lips with his. He wanted her. It was desire in its purest form, and he hated himself for it, because it was one of the hardest pursuits of his life. He was but a man, haunted by a bad past, fronted by a bad future, and he could not see Hailey in it, because that would defeat the object. He had reaped what he'd sown, and he would have to deal with the consequences. But the cross around his neck burned irritably; yes, he believed in redemption, he believed in forgiveness. Wrong could never be turned to right, however, wrong could be forgiven. Was Hailey sent to him to make him a new path than the one placed before him?

He muttered to himself, cursing his weak mind and his stupid, pre-chosen beliefs. He was alone responsible for being the man he was today, and he and nobody else would be responsible for his actions. But maybe it was precisely _that_ that made him so reluctant to act out his wishes and show the girl what he felt for her, because after all, he'd only known her for a couple of days. Or more so; _she'd _only known _him_ for a couple of days. Forty-six years had a bit more to it than twenty-four, and he'd heard most of _that_ already. She knew nothing of him, and that was a conscious choice from his side. He never thought this would turn into some strange internal battle on his part—he didn't expect it to last more than these few days—and therefore, he didn't feel the need to trouble her by telling her all the horrible details of the man that was supposed to be her guard. The trust she had for him, and the trust he had for her, was hanging by a thread already, and yet, it was stronger now than it had ever been. He still wasn't fully convinced she wasn't working for Tyler, even though he could see no evidence that she was. He didn't _want _to believe she was working for him, but after all his years, the years that girl knew nothing about, he'd learnt to know that no one was to be fully trusted until in a situation of life and death. Because that was what this was all about; life and death. Who would you be willing to die for? He would die for Kerrianne. He would die for Jax. He would die for Jax's boys. Even though constant sparring, he would die for Bobby, because he knew the man would take a bullet for him any day. He would die for his brothers, all of them. Even Clay, had it come to that.

But would he die for Hailey? Would he risk his life to save hers? He didn't know. His conscientious heart told him yes, but his cautious mind told him no. The girl had yet to proven to be of that value. And still, he couldn't deny the affection he felt for her, even after just a handful of days. She was a broken woman, and he sensed it wasn't just because of this Tyler business. There was something else there, a resentment to the world, to herself… he could relate to her, in ways he could not relate to anyone else. He recalled hearing her tell him about her parents—when he was more focused on the movements of her lovely lips, that is—and then, he hadn't really reflected on what she'd said, but now, when thinking about it, he realized she had been telling him tragic stories, wrapped in comical wrapping. She had laughed, joked about it, but the gravity of what she'd said was so very tragic. About ridiculously high expectations when she was very young, about disappointments, resentments, about forced ambitions and opinions. Her brilliant mind had been spotted early on, and she had been trained, almost like a dog it had seemed, to develop that mind. He remembered her mentioning Harvard as an early goal. Not hers, but her parents. She was an only child, he remembered that as well, and he remembered her telling him that instead of receiving dolls and dresses and toys when she was a child, she had gotten books. Her mother had taught her to read and write very early on, and he remembered her mentioning something about not going to public school, but to some fancy private school.

He could relate to his own childhood, of constant remarks by his literate parents who—despite the fact that they were strongly committed to the Catholic faith—claimed that the only way to move forwards and upwards in life was to know science and to know how to read and understand a book. Experiencing his teenage years in Belfast during the Eighties was a demanding time; literacy would not keep you alive on the streets. Dr. Telford and his wife didn't understand that, but young Filip Telford leant it the hard way. He rose from being the underdog, the silly child who believed more in the power of conversation than the power of the fist, to be an unforgiving troubled teen fighting his way through school. He fought his way to the top, earned his respect, and through the violence, the morale he had with him from home came to grow into some sense of responsibility. That was why, when he turned eighteen, when he was free of his parents' teachings and scolding, he decided to join the army instead of going to med school, as his father would have liked, to be able to do some good. His skills in the arts of medicine earned him the spot as Medic, but he did not belong there. He could, with his practiced mind, read between the lines and understand _why_ Belfast was more of a war zone than a city, and maybe that was why he changed his mind, and went back to fighting amongst the people.

He had the strength to rebel against his parents early, because he was forced to if he was to survive, but if he hadn't, if he would have hid with the other children who never went outside during recess, who took the short way home to never step a foot outside the door after school, who never did anything other than reading those books, he would have grown up to be a cynical man who believed the lesser of his brothers. He wouldn't _have _brothers. He'd grown up to be just like his old man, muttering while he walked past people with lesser education, sighing whenever a politician spoke and watching vigorously the Nobel Prize Ceremonies from start to finish each and every year. He would have an unquenchable anger inside of him, a resentment to the world, to himself…

Conveyed by his own thoughts, he rose from the sofa, stretched and went to find Hailey to take her back to the apartment, spare her the muttering and frowning and let her enjoy the solitude. But as he looked around, he couldn't find her. Men and women were all spread across the club house, some stark naked, entangled with someone else. Frowning, he went to examine the rooms. If he would find her in bed with someone, he had a feeling there would be little left of that man's head. But she was nowhere. He found Tig in bed with two sleeping women, he found Chuck in his own bed, but by himself. Happy, Bobby and Phil were all asleep in the main room, and Chibs sighed heavily as he put a boot in the sleeping Phil's side, and he rolled over on the floor.

"What?" he mumbled.

"Ye seen Hailey?" Chibs grunted.

"No, man," Phil sighed.

Muttering, Chibs went on. He slapped Bobby in the head, who flew up, letting go of a woman's firm breast. "Ye seen Hailey?"

Bobby stirred, confusion in his face before he shook his head rapidly as to wake himself up. "What the hell, Chibs! What time is it?"

"Eight in the mornin'," Chibs grunted. "Have ye seen Hailey or not?"

"No," Bobby said. "Is she gone?"

Clenching his jaw, feeling a slow, uncomfortable tingle of worry spread through him, he shook his head. "Dunno where she is."

"Maybe Gemma took her home," Bobby suggested and frowned tiredly. "It seemed they were having a nice time last night."

Chibs shook his head. "Gemma went with Nero. I saw her go."

Bobby huffed troublesomely. "I don't know! You lost her?!"

Chibs scuffed. "She's not an object I can lose, Bobby. She's a person. I can' control her twenty-four-seven."

"You _find _her!" Bobby scowled, pointing his finger at him.

Rolling his eyes, Chibs went on. Two prospects entered the club house, both with cleaning equipment in their hands. Chibs demanded their attention. "Any of ye seen Hailey? The redhead?"

One of them lighted up. "Yeah, Juice took her back to your place last night. She… she was crying."

Chibs furrowed his brows. Crying? What idiot had pushed her buttons? Sighing, he pulled his hand through his hair and headed for the exit. He put his shades on before meeting the strong Californian sun, and mounted his bike.

**¤(SoA)¤**

She hadn't slept very well. Nightmares had haunted her, kept her from sleeping but minutes at a time. Around four in the morning, she woke the snoring Juice next to her. He had stirred, confusedly, before going back to sleep. She woke him up again, and this time he sighed.

"What's the matter?" he yawned.

"I can't sleep," she sighed.

"Just… close your eyes and try again," he said, muffled against the pillow.

"Keep me company, please?" she begged.

He sighed heavily and turned to lie on his back. "Can I crawl under the covers? I'm freezing."

She chuckled and rolled her eyes and handed him a piece of her cover. "Yes Juice, you can crawl under the covers."

He fumbled, obviously tired and not very focused, until he'd covered himself and shifted to a more comfortable position, slightly closer to her. Hailey felt the warmth of another body, and even though they were both fully clothed, she couldn't help but to feel a bit embarrassed by their situation. Though, she didn't feel uncomfortable, because she never did with Juice. And this had no sexual approach in any way; they were just two friends sharing one bed. To be honest, she felt relieved having him by her side, knowing she wasn't alone in the dark.

"Juice," she said, her voice echoing in the empty silence. "What's going on between you and Chibs? There is a history there, isn't it?"

Juice didn't answer at first, but then he sighed and shifted to lie on his back. "He was my mentor. He… believed in me when no one else did. He taught me how to fight, he taught me how to use a gun… he taught me how to use my head, though I can't say I do _that_ very often." He sighed again, placing his hands behind his head. "I was just a kid when he came here, to Charming. You know how word gets around in a small town, right? Well, when word got out that this… angry Scotsman with red slashed across his face was taken care of by the Sons of Anarchy, now _that's _exciting news to a fifteen-year-old. I remember Jax being my ultimate hero in High School, and he and Opie were so cool, with their families and all… but when even they started to talk excitedly about the Scotsman, you couldn't help but to be mesmerized yourself. I watched him fight in the ring several times, when Jax and Opie—for some mysterious reason—brought me with them, and I remember thinking he was beyond cool. When I applied for being a prospect, no one really believed I could handle the shit they were doing. Jax and Opie cheered me up, but… they didn't really believe in me, either. A computer geek trying to be a hard boiled biker?" He huffed. "Hell, _I_ wouldn't believe in me. But for some reason, Chibs did." He sighed, a sad, heartbroken sigh. "He's the closest thing to a father I've ever had, and I fucked it all up."

Hailey turned to look at him, frowning in pity. "What happened?"

"I was a fucking idiot," Juice muttered. "That happened."

"I need more than that, Juice," Hailey sighed.

"I ratted." His voice was low, full of self loathing, but then he frowned. "I was being black mailed by a fucking ATF agent, and I did it because I thought it would save the club. But I was a fucking idiot."

Filled with pity, Hailey moved closer to him and embraced him. "You thought it would help them," she said softly. "You meant well."

"That's not how the others saw it," Juice muttered. "I… I tried to kill myself, but I couldn't even do that right." Hailey gasped. "Chibs found me, scolded me, just like a father would have done, and took me back to the club house. He was worried about me, and that just… hurt even more. He didn't know the reason why I wanted to kill myself. I told him about the leverage, about what the ATF's had found out about me, about my dad, and that they were using it against me. But I never told him that I'd ratted. I couldn't."

"So how did he find out?" Her voice was barely hearable, and she pressed herself closer to him.

"I had to tell Jax," Juice said. "Couldn't live with it. He was… disappointed, and angry, but for some reason, he never brought it to the table. He told Bobby and Chibs, of course, being his closest. That's how he found out. Jax has… well, sort of forgiven me. Bobby… I don't know. But Chibs…" He shook his head with a convinced grimace. "He will never forgive me."

Hailey shook her head. "You don't know that." It was more of a plead than a fact, because she wanted him to be forgiven.

"I know him in ways you don't," he muttered. "Chibs is unforgiving. You know, I remember watching him fight in the ring, thinking I'd never want to cross that man, because he would tear my head off. I knew Chibs would never forgive me if I ratted, and even though I had that in mind, I went ahead and did it anyway. It's all on me."

"So you'd rather kill yourself than tell him?" Hailey couldn't understand. If Chibs meant so much to Juice, and if Juice meant so much to Chibs, it wouldn't be a problem.

"I'd rather be dead and let him think well of me, then…" He trailed off with a sigh. "Doesn't matter now."

Sighing, she shifted to lie a bit more comfortable against Juice. "Do you know anything about his past? Why he's so unforgiving?"

She could feel him shrug. "Don't know all the details, he's never told me. But, well, I know he was in some deep shit with the Real IRA back in Belfast. He and Fiona had just had Kerrianne when a friend of Chibs', this guy called Jimmy O, also a member of the Real IRA, decided he wanted what Chibs had. Again, I don't know all the details, but as far as I understand, Jimmy O set him up for being a traitor, or whatever, and exiled him. Before he was kicked out of the country, though, Jimmy O cut his face, and made him watch Jimmy take his family away. He's only seen his daughter once after that. Chibs got his revenge, though. Killed Jimmy O a couple of years ago."

Hailey swallowed. How horrible. She had no idea what sadness, what anger, the man carried with him… "How come he came here?"

"He was a member of the Belfast chapter," Juice explained. "A transfer was arranged, and he was shipped over the day after." Juice sighed and was silent for a moment. Hailey suspected he didn't want to talk about it any longer, and yet, he continued, "I think it was because of that he took me in; he was alone and angry, and I was an outcast. I don't know, but I'd like to think that instead of being angry and sad, he redirected that energy on me, training me, preparing me… he's never really talked about his past much. Suppose Clay knows the most, since he took him in."

Hailey let it be. She had tons of questions, but he's tone indicated he really didn't want to talk about it anymore. Instead, she yawned. "What time is it?"

She felt Juice shift. "Four-thirty."

She sighed. "Maybe we should try to get some sleep."

"Yeah," Juice said after a moment's pause.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Chibs rolled into the garage. Juice's bike was standing there, and the sight brought a strange mixture of relief and anger. If the boy had drooled on his couch, he would kill him. He unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was eerily quiet as he looked around. It was around eight-thirty. Slowly and soundlessly, he made his way over to the couch, only to find it empty. Odd, he thought, since Juice's bike had been there. Suddenly, it dawned on him, and he had to close his eyes and count to ten before he marched into the bedroom. As he expected—and dreaded—he found the two of them in his bed—_his_ bed!—with her tightly against his chest under the covers. They both looked so serene, so completely unaware of the world around them, and they looked so perfect, it was almost sickening.

Chibs breathed rapidly, jealousy tearing through him like a raging inferno, and he gripped the foot of the bed with his hands until his knuckles whitened. He stared at them, glared as if he thought he could kill them both with that single look. Without as much as a second thought, he strode up to the side, pulled the covers away and dragged Juice out of the bed. They both woke up with a start, Hailey screaming and Juice gasping loudly.

"_Chibs_!" Hailey cried. "What are you _doing_?!"

Without a word, he lifted Juice by his collar, staring the boy coldly in the eye as he dragged him all the way to the front door and shoved him out.

"Man, I can explain!" Juice shouted, voice cracking, as Chibs shut the door after him, only opening it again to toss out his kutte.

Blackened by anger, he turned to stride back into the bedroom, but Hailey had come running out, still wearing the same clothes she had on yesterday.

"What are you _doing_?!" she yelled. "Are you _insane_?!"

He straightened to look down on her. Her blue eyes were both frightened and angered, her cheeks were flushed, and her chest was rising and falling faster than his. Finally, he growled, "ye fuckin' slut."

She huffed loudly, narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "What did you just call me?"

He blinked, feeling more and more angered. Was _she_ scolding _him_? "Ye slept with _Juice_," he started, feeling how the rage became more and more unmanageable when uttering the words out loud, "in _my_ bed!"

She stared at him, without speaking, seemingly incomprehensive. She looked away, furrowed her brows and shook her head before she looked back. "So?" That one word meant more than a thousand words, and Chibs clenched his fists. "Where were _you_ all night, then? Passed out over a toilet? Underneath a table? Or maybe, you were fucking Miss Plastic Fantastic?"

Chibs inhaled deeply, and even though that wasn't true, he gave her a dark, cynical smile, while narrowing his eyes, saying, "Wha', are ye jealous?" His voice was smug, slow and filled with resentment. But he couldn't deny that even now, when being so mad at her he thought he'd strangle her, feeling so betrayed he thought his blackened mind would never clear, she was still so bloody beautiful. If it was the anger that raised the level of testosterone in his body, he didn't know, but what he _did_ know was that he could easily overpower her, easily _force_ her to be with him, if he wanted to. He tipped his head to the side and gave her a smirk. "Aye, tha's the problem, isn' it? Ye're jealous…"

Her upper lip curled into a snarl. "Oh yes, because I just _love_ the thought of a dirty old man between my thighs… who the _fuck_ do you think I am?!"

"Ye didn' seem tha' disgusted by it yesterday," he retorted with a sneer.

She huffed. "Well, don't you think that tells us more about _you_ than about me, really?" She shifted, still keeping her arms crossed, but her face was distorted in some kind of sarcastic, patronizing smile. "That you have this sick attraction to younger women?" A light appeared in her eyes, a light he couldn't quite understand, but judging by her twitching smile, the light couldn't be anything but malice. "Maybe that's why you haven't met your daughter more than once; you fear your _sick_ head will do things to you, make you see her in ways that isn't very appropriate for a father to see his daughter?"

A pang of horror shot through his body, made him lose balance for a fragment of a second. Was this real? Did she just say that to him? How… _dared_ she? He had never in his life felt the urge to strike a woman, but now he had to fight letting his hand fly across her face. It was close to impossible for him to in any way control his own anger, and he saw how the malice in her eyes quickly faded and was replaced by fear. He clenched his jaw and took a step towards her, his eyes locked on hers. She stumbled backwards, almost to the point where she'd fall, had it not been for the fridge. He had her, if he wanted to, pinned between him and the refrigerator and his anger was enough to push away any morality, anything that would stop him from hurting her. But he composed himself, looking into her fearful face, into her horrified eyes. Oh, she knew what he knew; she knew what he could do to her, and she was afraid. Opening his mouth, only slightly, he let out the only thing that could pass through his rage, the only thing that would save the both of them, "Get out."

Without as much as a gasp, she darted towards the door, picking up her shoes in the speed, and disappearing out of the apartment, leaving the door wide open. He watched as her flaming hair disappeared down the staircase, and he heard the echo of the entrance door opening and closing.

Letting out deep sigh, he suddenly didn't know where to put himself, and started to pace the kitchen. He tried to shake off the anger that clouded his mind, to try to understand what had just happened. He closed the door, stood staring at it for a while, touched the handle, let it go again, and then returned to pacing the kitchen, continuing into the living-room, then back into the kitchen. He entered the bedroom, looked at the unmade bed where he'd found them, the woman he had, the very same day, felt such connection to, felt such affection for, and the man he'd taken in as his little brother, as his protégée, as his own son… a new wave of anger swept over him as he tore the sheets out of the bed and marched back into the kitchen, only to return to his furious pacing.

He felt her skin underneath his fingers, felt her scent in his mind, felt the shape of her against him, felt how his arms molded around her, saw the depth in her forget-me-not eyes, heard her sweet laugh echo in his mind, felt her breath upon his lips… he grabbed a glass standing on the sink and sent it flying across the room, shattering into a million pieces when hitting the front door. He turned to lean himself against the sink, breathing rapidly, his nostrils flaring. He closed his eyes and mumbled a Gaelic prayer his grandfather taught him. It begged to calm the thundering waves of the sea against the cliffs of Skye, begged to calm the harsh winds over the hills of Galloway, begged to calm the nerves of a Scotsman, as untamed as the land in which he was born. From the hills of Dumfries to the moors of Durness, he let his mind visualize the landscape, as he kept chanting the Gaelic words until he felt his anger sink away, disappearing into his deep, dark pit of despair, where he kept everything else. Not until then, when the pit had been sealed, did he open his eyes and realize what had happened; he had found Hailey, fully clothed, sleeping next to Juice, who'd also been fully clothed. Blinded by jealousy, he had thrown him out, argued with her and she had defiled his relationship to his daughter. He had lost control of his anger, he had almost struck her down but had been able to compose himself enough to avoid that, and the only way for him to do that, had been to get rid of her, to throw her out as well.

And now, she was gone.


	13. This Time

**A/N:** Hello everybody! I hope you've had a marvelous Christmas and an amazing New Year! I know I have. So, I promised you a new chapter during the first week of 2013, right? Well, might as well post it the first day, right? :)

And, we start the new year with a quote from** Mumford and Sons'** _Little Lion Man_, a brilliant song from a brilliant band, and to quote _Dinner for One_, a New Year's Eve tradition in Sweden;

"The same procedure as last year, Miss Sophie?"

"The same procedure as every year, James!"

go listen to the song! :D

Mostly, enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Thirteen **

"_I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?"  
_— _Little Lion Man, Mumford and Sons_

She could barely breathe through the sobs as she ran through the streets. She hadn't even put her shoes on yet, but she couldn't stop, afraid that if she did, someone might take her. She didn't know how far she had gotten once she simply couldn't run anymore, and she quickly sought out somewhere she could hide, away from the people, away from the world. Her tears had dried, but her sobs were still violent, making her whole body tremble, and as she sat down, she started to feel the pain underneath her feet after running on hot concrete. Slowly and carefully, she lifted a foot to look underneath it, and she could see a large blister forming in the front, and some skin was missing on the heel. While sobbing hard, trembling violently, she concluded her other foot looked the same and didn't dare look under it. With shaky hands, she carefully put her shoes on, feet burning with pain as she pressed them down, and she winced.

She was tired, and she was afraid, and she was sad, and… and… it was all so messed up. The tears started to fall again as she pulled her knees to her chin and hid her face in her hands. _Are ye jealous? _The image of Chibs and that woman had been stuck on her retina since she saw them together. Yes… yes, she was jealous, because no matter how angry she was at herself for being attracted to the man, she couldn't help but to wish that _she_ had been the girl he'd kissed like that. And now, it was too late. Those furious eyes of his would forever haunt her. She had gone too far, she knew that. She didn't mean what she said, she didn't mean any of it! But she was just too hurt and too scared to stop it. But when he'd looked at her like that… she was sure he wanted to kill her, for real. And Murphy's Law kept screwing her, over and over again. She just wished she could be at home, with her mom and her dad, where it was safe, where nothing was dangerous except for stupid people and decaf.

She thought about maybe going to the garage, maybe try to find Juice, but even though she wouldn't mind seeing him, she was afraid to see the others. What if Chibs was there? What would he do to her? What was he going to do to Juice? And _why_ did he react the way he did? What mistake did they make? She scoffed at the thought that Chibs would go all crazy because Juice fell asleep in his bed next to her. That would be an absurd thought; why would he be in any way jealous? No, she had abandoned any thought of him having any interest in her after last night. Alright, she did get why he'd be angry if she'd actually had _sex_ with Juice, in Chibs' bed, given how completely neurotic he was when it came to cleaning and stuff. But they _hadn't_ had sex—for God's sake, they were fully dressed! She thought about what Juice had said, about Chibs being unforgiving. Could he have gone completely insane by just seeing Juice in his apartment like that? No, Juice had been there before, and Chibs hadn't thrown him out then.

It baffled her, as well as worried her, that she didn't understand why. So… was he jealous? No… impossible. Why would he be, when he'd been all over that plastic? Yes, Hailey had thought that maybe—just maybe—there was something between them, a spark, whatever, but seeing him with that woman, seeing the way he'd kissed her, she knew that whatever she thought they had, was nothing special. It was just a stupid, naïve thought that he would be jealous of Juice.

Suddenly, she was angry. What right did he have to treat her and Juice the way he did? Well, at least now, she was free. She was free of Chibs constant doubting, free from constant stress of not knowing whether or not she'd get killed today. She was free of the Sons of Anarchy. They didn't know where she was. No one knew where she was. Not even herself… the more she thought about the fact that she was all on her own, lost in the town of Charming, without money, with blisters on her feet, and without anything to conceal her, she felt rather worried. Should Tyler have someone looking for her in Charming—she didn't believe him to trust the Sons of Anarchy, because that would make him dumber than she expected him to be—he would most probably find her if she wandered the streets. But what was she supposed to do? Just sit there, hidden behind a dumpster? Drying her tears, she dared to peek around the corner of the dumpster. The street was pretty much empty. An old man was walking slowly away from her, and a mother with her two children was packing in groceries into her minivan. Carefully, Hailey rose. Her feet hurt like crazy, but she'd have to endure it. Looking again once more, making sure no one was watching her, not from a window of a car or a house, she carefully stepped out of her hiding place, and just as she had rounded the furthest corner of the dumpster, something came in her way, and she nearly tripped. Quickly looking back, she gasped as she saw a woman sitting on the ground, with a bag full of things next to her. She seemed homeless, and she was reading an old, worn out book, as if she hadn't noticed Hailey walking right into her.

"You were hiding, weren't you?" she suddenly said, and again Hailey gasped.

She wanted to run away, wanted to go back into hiding, but she was frozen in place. The woman looked up, dark, deep eyes scanning her, not with anger, not with suspicion, but with pity and understanding. Slowly, Hailey tipped her head to the side. "How… how did you know?"

"You have very special features," the woman continued, ignoring Hailey's question. "You should cover your hair." The woman dug into her back, pulled out clothes, empty plastic bottles, books, some music tapes until she finally mouthed an, "aha!" and pulled out a brown bucket hat. With a smile, she handed it over to Hailey. "You have pale eyes… sunlight is dangerous to pale eyes. This will cover them as well."

Hailey stared at the hat in the woman's outstretched hand for some time before she slowly reached to grab it. "Um… thanks."

The woman smiled and grabbed her bag to leave. "I hope everything turns out well for you."

Hailey smiled and nodded. "Thanks." She then bent her head down to put the hat on and stuffed her red hair in. "How do I look?" But as she looked up, the woman was gone. Hurrying forwards to see where she'd gone, Hailey saw how the woman walked down the street, seemingly in her own world, as if she hadn't med Hailey at all.

She pulled the hat further down, relieved that she was covered, but still worried someone might recognize her. Carefully, she made her way down the street and diverted into main street. Hoping the hat did the trick, she tried to look into shops to see what time it was. When looking into a diner, she saw it was half past ten, and her belly was grumbling violently. But she had no money, and that meant no food. Disappointed, she moved on.

**¤(SoA)¤**

He sat by the kitchen island, having his fifth smoke in one hour, trying to sort things out in his own head. Her absence was more present than anything, and he cursed his temper, cursed his stupid infatuation with the girl. It would only end in disaster, he knew that. And why was he even surprised she'd feel more comfortable with Juice anyway? The boy wasn't a total idiot, and he wasn't as reluctant as most others to show his feelings. Of course Hailey would feel more comfortable with someone like Juice. If he'd only reflected upon the situation before he let the anger take control of him… and now she was gone, alone out there where more than one would love to see her dead or worse. Putting his cigarette out, he dug out his phone from his pocket and dialed Tig's number.

"_Hey man, what's up?_"

"Get over here," Chibs muttered. "I need yer help with somethin'."

"_Hey, Chibby_," Tig said, that suspicious drawl making the words longer, "_what's goin' on?_"

"Jus' get yer arse over here," Chibs huffed and hung up. He rose from the chair to hesitantly walk into the bedroom. The sheets lay there, in a mess on the floor. With a sigh, he picked them up to make the bed again. They smelled of her, smelled of her sweet fragrance, and he clenched his jaw. If he hadn't exploded like he had, she would still be there with him, she would still be safe.

Impatiently waiting for Tig's arrival, Chibs started scrubbing the kitchen counters. After years of practice and systematical processes, he couldn't keep to just cleaning the kitchen counters, and started scrubbing the stove, dusting the cupboard doors, scrubbing the fridge and the freezer… he'd just started filling the bucked to swab the floor when there was a knock on the door, and Chibs turned the running water off, grabbed a gun and stood by the door. It knocked again.

"_Hey man, are you there?_"

Chibs sighed and put the gun away before he let Tig in. His piercing glare was worried and incomprehensive. Chibs placed the gun back onto the kitchen island and sat down.

"What's going on?" Tig had his hands on his hips as he looked around. "You're… cleaning," he acknowledged. "Means you're stressed out."

Lighting a cigarette, Chibs tossed the lighter onto the table and looked at his brother. "Hailey's gone."

Tig furrowed his brows, the worried gaze turning panicked. "She's _what_? How? When?! Did she run off? Did someone take her?"

Chibs looked away, taking a deep inhale from the cigarette, after which he let out a thick cloud of smoke. "She split."

Huffing in desperation, groaning, Tig spun around and leaned against the kitchen counter. "This isn't good, man… why did she split?! I thought we were past that distrust shit? You told her about the vote, right?! About the deal?"

"I did."

"Then why did she leave? Where were _you_?!" Tig straightened and glared at Chibs, who sternly glared back. "You were supposed to look after her, man!"

Chibs scoffed. "Aye, I know tha', Tig."

"So why weren't you here, keeping her from running away?" Once again, his hands were on his hips, and Tig had furrowed his brows even further.

"Because I was the one who threw her out!" Chibs barked back, followed by a deep sigh.

Tig didn't seem to understand, and shifted on his feet trying to speak. "So you—wait, you—are you really saying that—what do you mean?"

"I mean tha' I told her te get out," Chibs said slowly, trying not to explode again. He felt it coming. "An' now I need te find her again, before Jax finds out."

"But… _why_, Chibs?!" Tig frowned, launching forwards, his hands clawing as if he was grabbing two oranges in them.

Chibs sighed, defeated. "Ye know when ye asked me last night if there was anythin' goin' on between me an' Hailey?" He stubbed his cigarette. "Well, I wasn' tellin' ye the absolute truth in tha'."

Tig huffed. "Please, tell me something I _don't_ know. I had you figured out the first day; Chibs and a redhead, under the same roof? It could only end one way, brother."

Grinning sarcastically, Chibs took another deep inhale of his cigarette. "Well, this mornin', I found her in bed with Juice."

Tig's face changed, from angry to blank, and then he frowned. "Oh, shit man… I'm sorry." He sat down by the kitchen island. "Man, I told you! I told you to give it a week! It was even less than that! So… was it… you know, all and all? Was it in the action, or after the storm?"

Chibs raised a brow and shook his head. "Neither."

"Wait man, I don't follow," Tig sighed. "So, you walked in on them _before_?"

"I don' think they were even gonna," Chibs said.

"So where's the fire?" Tig asked. "Why kick her out?"

Sighing frustratedly, Chibs rose and started arming himself. "She said some bad things about Kerrianne, an' I couldn' cope."

"No way, man! What did she say?"

"Doesn' matter _what_, Tig. We need te find her, quickly."

"Yeah, yeah," Tig said and rose. "We should check out Juice's place first. I bet my money she went there."

"Oh no! Oh no, ye go then," Chibs said and raised his brow. "I'll kill him."

"Damn it, man," Tig said through gritted teeth as he shook his head. "You need to cut the boy some slack!"

"Maybe once we find her." Pulling his kutte over his brown leather jacket, he looked over at Tig. "We need te find her tenigh'."

"Then why are we still here?" Tig smirked and walked past Chibs and out the door, and Chibs followed.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Hailey walked aimlessly through town, sitting for a while on one place, yearning for a meal on another. She was tired and hungry and thirsty and sad. She wished it all undone. She wished she never cheated on that fucking test. Even more so, she wished she'd never signed up for that stupid class! If she hadn't she would be at Harvard right now, either studying or partying. Maybe she would be on a date, or have a movie night with Maggie. She would have no problems with a man called Craig Tyler, or have these raging feelings for a man like Chibs. She would be back in her life, back in the world that made sense. Angry, disappointed at herself, she decided to get the hell out of there; get the hell out of Charming. She had nothing there to do, so why would she still be there? All that was for her in that town was fear and heartbreak. She rose from the bench she had been sitting on for the past hour, and her feet stung sourly, but she clenched her jaw and started to walk through the town. She had no idea which way to go, but she suspected she'd find somewhere to go.

She didn't know what time it was once she reached the highway, but the sun was setting. She walked the highway for a good thirty minutes before she came across the first road sign. It said Oakland, and as she—since early age—always associated Oakland with nana, Hailey decided that _that_ was the place she'd go. So, bracing herself for what she knew would be a rather unpleasant hiking, she started wander towards the direction of the sign, still hungry, still thirsty and still sad and angry, and with blisters under her feet.

**¤(SoA)¤**

It was generally dark, but there was still a hint of fading blue at the horizon. A good song came on the radio and she turned it up, humming along in the sweet tunes. There were few close to no cars on the highway, and she thought it was for the best, and she exceeded the speed limit with marginal. Though already missing the safe embrace of Nero's, Gemma felt relief in going home, to her own house, to her own bed, to her own realm. The headlights of the car licked the road, and as the fading blue at the horizon now was nothing but a string of blue along the edge, the lights from the car illuminated even more. Suddenly, she could see a figure walking on the side of the road. Gemma leaned forwards over the wheel and narrowed her eyes. If she wasn't mistaken, it was a woman. A woman wearing nothing but a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a hat. Gemma slowed down, and the closer she got to the woman, who was clearly surprised to see a car, the more she started to recognize her. Those clothes…

Suddenly, it dawned on her; hell, she'd bought those clothes herself! She gasped loudly and hit the brakes, not caring about stopping in the middle of her lane. She quickly heaved herself out the door and strode up to the surprised girl. "Hailey?!"

She looked up at her, the blue eyes gleaming frighteningly pale in the headlights. "Gemma?"

The girl looked like shit, and Gemma couldn't understand what she was doing out there, in the dark, alone! Someone might have taken her! At least she'd had the common sense of covering her hair. "What are you doing out here?!"

"I was…" She trailed off, swallowing and blinking. "I was going to my nana."

Frowning and sighing, Gemma pulled the girl into an embrace. "Oh, baby, you're freezing!"

Hailey didn't resist, but she didn't welcome her embrace, and just stood there, motionless.

Gemma led her back to the car, and without much enthusiasm, Hailey took a seat by the passenger seat, without saying a word. Gemma sighed as she closed her own door. "Hailey, what happened?"

The girl shook her head. "Nothing."

Gemma lowered her brows. "Nothing? Really? So you just decided to walk all the way to Oakland?"

Hailey stared right ahead, without really looking at anything, it seemed. She was quiet for a moment before she took a deep breath. "Yes, I suddenly got the urge to take a walk."

Huffing and shaking her head at the girl's idiocy, Gemma put the gear in drive and rolled away. They didn't speak for the whole drive, and once they were back to Charming, Gemma thought it best to take the girl to her place, give her some food, something warmer to wear, and maybe a hot bath. Hailey didn't speak more than a few words, and Gemma grew more and more frustrated. Something must've happened. Had someone broken into Chibs' apartment? Was he there? Was he hurt? How did she get away? Did she run away by herself? How long had she been wandering about town? Did someone see her? When Gemma had made her something to eat—for Christ's sake, the girl was starving!—she sat down in front of her and set her eyes firmly on her. She needed some answers. "What happened?"

Hailey avoided Gemma's look, but sighed. "I got out of there."

"Why?"

"Because he told me to."

Gemma furrowed her brows. "Who? Chibs?"

Hailey looked up with both anger and remorse in her eyes. "Who do you think?"

Horrified, Gemma leaned forwards. Something must have happened. She knew Chibs was distrustful and cautious to most things, but she thought his uncertainty to the girl had vanished. Apparently, she was wrong. "What happened?"

Hailey looked away and continued eating. "He made it clear he didn't want me there, so I left."

Gemma swallowed as she watched the girl finish her plate. There was something not right about this whole thing. She knew Chibs. He had a good heart, and was probably the most honest and loyal of them all. Why would he want to throw her out? Had she been lying? Deceiving them all? She frowned. "Are you tired?"

"A bit," Hailey mumbled.

"You know what," Gemma said and rose. "Why don't you take the guest room? You can sleep there tonight, and tomorrow, we'll work something out, okay?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Hailey looked up, her face set hard. This woman was angry.

"Because I know what it feels like," Gemma said, "being unwanted. Being cast out."

Giving a sarcastic smile, Hailey shook her head. "You have no idea."

Gemma clenched her jaw and set her face straight. "No? I didn't get to see my grandkids for months, because I made a mistake. I was barely allowed to see my son in the eye. You were cast out by a man protecting you; I was cast out by my family. You tell me I have no idea?"

Hailey looked away. "I'm a bit tired."

"It's down the hall, second to the left," Gemma said and pointed.

Without another word, except "Thanks for the food," she left the kitchen, and Gemma sighed and lighted a cigarette. There was something really fishy about this whole thing.

**¤(SoA)¤**

"Chibs, man, we've looked everywhere," Tig said as he watched Chibs pace back and forth with his hands on his hips and his jaw set firm.

"She's got te be out there somewhere," Chibs muttered through gritted teeth. "She can' jus' disappear!"

"Yeah, she can!" Tig pointed out. "Tyler's probably got guys everywhere! What if they've got her?"

Chibs stopped only to glare at his brother, warning him not to say anymore. He knew very well that Tyler and his men already could've snatched her away, and he prayed to God they hadn't. She wasn't at Juice's, she wasn't at Bobby's—they had been clever about it all, just popping in for a visit—she wasn't at the club… it was his fault she was out there somewhere, with no money, nothing to protect herself with. Should Tyler have taken her, he would forever blame himself.

Suddenly, he felt the buzz of his phone in his pocket, and he pulled it out. It was Gemma. "Hello, love."

"_Hey, sweetheart. Looking for something?_"

Chibs dropped his jaw. How could she possibly know?

"_She's here_," Gemma continued, as if hearing his thoughts. "_Found her wandering the highway. You have some explaining to do."_

"Jesus Christ," he sighed—relief wasn't enough to describe the feeling of the worry leaving his heavy body. "Aye, I suppose so."

"_She's asleep at the moment_," Gemma said blankly. "_You should come while she's still out. Better to be here when she wakes up._"

"Aye." Gemma hung up and Chibs looked at Tig. "She's at Gemma's."

Tig's worried face relaxed. "Thank God!"

The both of them hurried to their bikes and drove off, arriving at Gemma's house barely five minutes later. As they entered, Gemma was having a smoke by the table, reading through some magazines. She looked over her glasses at the two men and motioned them to come in. Chibs was cautious. Had she called Jax? If so, he was in trouble. But there seemed to be no one there. Tig took the liberty of grabbing a beer from the fridge and sat down by the table. Chibs remained standing.

"Please, explain to me why I found her walking on the highway?" Gemma said quietly.

Sighing deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose, Chibs explained, "We had a row. She said some things I couldn' handle, an' I kicked her out. Didn' meant te."

Gemma sighed, smoke surrounding her majestic head. She then looked at Tig. "Why don't you go wake her up, sweetie?"

Tig looked at Gemma and then at Chibs, and then back at Gemma and nodded. "Yeah, sure."

When he had risen and disappeared down the hall, Gemma looked at Chibs, with that look only Gemma could give, that motherly look. "Honey, I know it's been a long time since you lived with anyone," she sighed. "A woman, no less. Shit's gonna get ugly." She raised her brows. "You can't kick her out every time you have an argument. Hell, if that's how you dealt with stuff, Clay would have been out of this house a long time ago."

Chibs sighed and sat down. "Ye're married te Clay," he said. "It's different. This girl…" He huffed. "She gets on me nerves. She's too bleedin' big-mouthed. I can' stand it!"

Gemma smiled. "Too much woman for you to handle?" There was a challenge there, Chibs could hear it, and he raised a brow. "Maybe little Chibby can't stand a strong-willed woman?"

He huffed. "Hell, I married one."

"I know you did," Gemma said. "And that's my point. If you could put up with being married to a woman like Fiona, I'm sure you can put up with keeping a girl like Hailey under your roof."

Chibs felt ashamed, and sighed heavily. "Aye, ye're right. I'm a bit rusty, I suppose."

Gemma opened her mouth to speak, but cut herself short as Tig reappeared, followed by Hailey. The girl looked dreadful, crunching slightly as she walked, as if trying to make herself as small as possible. She didn't meet Chibs' eyes, and he clenched his jaw.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" Gemma asked.

The girl crossed her arms. "I'm fine."

Tig stood silent next to her, almost as if sheltering her from a tough situation. He knew what Gemma and Hailey didn't; he knew Chibs' perspective. However, Chibs knew Tig had taken a liking to the girl, and wanted to protect her, even if that meant protecting her from Chibs as well. She was obviously still mad at him, and he didn't blame her. Sighing, he rose.

"Ye ready te go?"

Hailey still didn't look at him, but sighed as she stroked her arm. "Yeah. Sure."

Chibs glanced over at Gemma, who seemed to be deep in thought. He almost suspected her to either suggest Hailey stay at her place, or give him a lecturing comment, but she looked at Hailey and smiled.

"Remember what I've said," she said as she rose. "If you ever need something, just give me a call."

Hailey looked at her and nodded, and for the first time, she looked over at Chibs. Their eyes met, and he felt so idiotic when looking into her face. She was hurt. She was hurt, she was disappointed and she was scared. He could see that, and he felt ashamed. Slowly, he straightened.

He cleared his throat. "Ye better borrow a jacket or somethin', 'cause it's a bit chilly." He motioned at Gemma, and she nodded.

"Yeah, you can borrow a shirt of mine," she said and went into the hall to come back with a knitted sweater. Hailey accepted it and put it on before she went to take her shoes on, and that's when he saw it; the reddened soles of her feet, the blisters, the scraped skin… he was just about to ask her what the hell she'd done with herself, when she straightened, and looked at him with crossed arms.

"Are we going, or what?" she asked.

He nodded. "Aye." He then turned to Gemma. "Thanks, love." He gave her a peck on the cheek and waited while Hailey said her thanks as well, before they went out the door, towards Chibs' bike. Tig was still inside, and Chibs suspected him to stay for a while. Hailey didn't say much as she accepted Chibs' helmet and put it on, and mounted the bike behind him.

The feel of her body against his did something inside of him, and he clenched his jaw as he kicked his bike to life and drove away, the only thing stirring in his head was an apology and the feel of her hands around his waist.


	14. Ain't No Place

**A/N: **Dear readers, I thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! I am forever grateful!

I just got home from the trip from hell; 15 hours of bus, train, waiting and technical troubles.. I started 7:20 this morning, and came back home 9:30 this evening. I was told off by two old ladies, for something I was completely innocent to, and for 8 hours, I sat cramped on a bus, with a heavy bag on top of me, with a woman leaning back the back of the seat onto me and with nagging old ladies behind me, preventing me from leaning back my own, and with a man next to me, who seemed just generally lost. And.. and.. and.. it was a horrible journey. But, now I'm home, and I give you a new chapter!

This time, I've used a quote from the song _The Weary Kind_ by **Ryan Bingham** (also featured in the movie _Crazy Heart_ with Jeff Bridges). It's a fantastic song, and I urge all of you to go and listen to it! Now!

Enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Fourteen**

"_This ain't no place for the weary kind, and this ain't no place to lose your mind."  
_— _The Weary Kind, Ryan Bingham_

Chibs didn't sleep that night. He stayed awake, just thinking about what happened and how they could possibly go forwards, because he had decided, somewhere between midnight and six in the morning, that he wouldn't be a wuss anymore and if he was going to yearn for that girl, he would tell her so and accept the consequences, as the honest man he was.

Six thirty he decided he couldn't just lie there anymore, and since sleep was obviously avoiding him, he thought he could rise just as well. He made coffee, ate some breakfast, did his workout, read the newspaper, and by eight, he was restless. Hailey was still asleep, and he just wanted to tell her why he'd gotten so angry. He wanted to explain to her about his daughter, about his life, he wanted to tell her why he'd thrown Juice out… he wanted to put the cards on the table, come clean about things. He would tell her… he would tell her that he'd only known her for a couple of days, but that she awoke things inside of him that had been asleep for a long time. Yes, he would tell her that. It wasn't a declaration of love, it wasn't a sign of desperation; it was merely an observation, a perspective of the truth, for it _was_ the truth. It would be unnecessary to tell her he pretty much got a hard on every time he thought about her full lips and the way that blue t-shirt hugged her body tightly. It would severely lack the tact and sensibility he supposed this woman needed. She wasn't a Crow Eater—not as simple, not as slutty. He would man up and tell her what she made him feel like, and then he would take the consequences. If the girl could only wake up!

Restless, and hating being restless, Chibs grabbed the most intricate, most time consuming piece of literature he could find in his bookshelf, and ended up with _Remembrance of Things Past_ by the French author Marcel Proust. He'd never actually succeeded in finishing the book, claiming it was far too deep for him, but now would be the perfect time to start over, so he put his glasses on and sank down in the sofa. Already at the first page, he felt bored, but continued reading.

Surprisingly consumed by childhood memories wrapped in lime blossom tea and Madeleines, Chibs hardly noticed the soft feet sneaking into the kitchen some time later. It wasn't until he heard the clinking of cups he turned around. Hailey stood with her back against him, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Putting the book away, he sighed and rose. "Good mornin'."

"Good morning," she mumbled.

Chibs walked to lean against the kitchen island and took his glasses off. "Ye still mad?"

She sighed and turned, looking straight at him, though with a look he couldn't quite interpret. "Are _you_?"

"No."

"Then I have no reason to be either, I suppose," she shrugged and turned away and took a seat by the table.

Even though he knew exactly what to say to her, his words still fell short. He took a seat in front of her and watched her as she drank her coffee and avoided his eyes. He sighed and clenched his jaw. She still looked gloomy, tired, disappointed and frightened, but she tried to conceal it. "We need te talk about this," he sighed heavily.

He could see the strain of muscles in her face, and then she looked at him. "Why?"

He squeezed the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. "Hailey, ye've go te understand I—"

"I know," she mumbled and looked away. She sighed. "I shouldn't… I shouldn't have said those things, about your daughter… I'm sorry." Looking up only briefly, she gave him a ghost of a smile.

"No," he said and raised his brows, "ye shouldn'. An' now ye know tha'. But I shouldn' have called ye… well, ye know."

"And yet you did," she said and clenched her jaw. "You know," she said as she furrowed her brows and looked up at him. "I really can't figure it out. Why did you call me that?"

He sighed and crossed his arms as he leaned back in the chair. It had sounded so good in his head, telling her how he felt, but sitting eye to eye with the girl, he suddenly felt somehow stunted. He didn't know what to say, and everything he'd planned on telling her sounded stupid and desperate. Her words from yesterday morning suddenly popped into mind; _Because I just _love_ the thought of a dirty old man between my thighs._ Not knowing whether or not she's been serious, he clenched his jaw tight and looked at her. "I… I was just surprised, tha's all. Juice an' I are goin' through some rough patches, an'—"

"I know," she said. "He told me. Everything."

Chibs furrowed his brows. So, Juice told her he was a rat? Then he frowned surprisedly. "Well, then ye must know why I reacted so strongly."

"He's been here before," she said. "Don't understand why this would be so different."

"'Course ye don'," he muttered under his breath. "Look, I don' expect ye te understand."

"Well then," she sighed, seemingly fighting with herself to be civil, "make me understand, because I'd like to."

Rolling his eyes, Chibs let out a sigh. This was going a very different direction from what he'd imagined. But, was he ever going to gain her trust again, he could tell the truth just the same. "Juice is brilliant when it comes te computers an' technology, but is an idiot when it comes te everythin' else. An ATF agent had dug out some shite about his da, tha' he was black, an' had fer some stupid reason convinced the lad he would be kicked out o' the club 'cause he was half black." There was surprise in her face, and for some reason, Chibs felt pleased by it. So the boy hadn't told her everything now, had he? "The police said they wouldn' tell the club about this new info if he gave 'em stuff about the organizations we were dealin' with. Apparently, he was told SAMCRO would be left alone. So he stole a block of coke we were mulin', an' let us blame it on the prospects." Chibs leaned forwards and narrowed his eyes. "We were close te killin' one of 'em, an' he didn' come clean. Had we done it, the blood would've been on his hands."

Hailey seemed to be uncomfortable, her chest rising and falling rapidly. But she still seemed curious. "But you didn't, right? You didn't kill anyone?"

Chibs smirked. "No, _we_ didn'."

Furrowing her brows worriedly, she whispered, "what do you mean?"

Chibs plucked his teeth with his tongue and sank down in his chair to a more comfortable position. "When Juice was goin' te place the block back, another member caught him off guard. His name was Miles. Juice killed him when Miles was goin' te call fer us. Shot him in the face."

Her face drained from color, and she looked away. "I…" She swallowed. "I didn't know that."

"Ye really think he'd tell ye he'd killed someone?" Chibs asked and raised a brow. Sighing, he pushed his hair back. "Don' be surprised, love. We've all got blood on our hands. But he killed one of his own. We don' do tha'. I never really cared tha' much fer Miles, anyways, but… we don' do tha'." He suspected this wasn't what she'd expected to hear, but it was the truth. Shrugging, he rose. "Suspect tha' wasn' wha' ye wanted te hear," he said, "but it's the only explanation I can give ye." Sighing again, he went to one of the kitchen cupboards and pulled out a medical kit. "Hop up onte the counter." He patted the counter next to him, but she seemed hesitant and surprised. He shook his head. "I saw yer feet. I wanna take a look."

"That's not necessary," she mumbled, a deep red shade spreading across her cheeks.

Her blushing triggered something inside of him, and he patted the counter again, this time more determinedly. "C'mon, love. Let's patch ye up." It had all started with that, he suddenly remembered. That he patched her up. He remembered the frightened look she wore and the worry her voice carried… he gave her a smile. "Don' worry, love. No stitches."

Rolling her eyes, she rose and walked up to him and jumped up onto the counter. Her head came in level with his, and as he looked up from his medical kit and met her eyes, he suddenly froze in place. Not in fear, not in embarrassment, but in awe. Being that close to her, watching her face that closely, he couldn't help but to slowly settle his eyes on her lips again—those full, perfectly shaped, very kissable lips… he could hear her breathing shallowly, and as he looked up into her eyes again, he noticed a subtle change in them; a confusion mixed with some kind of hope. Again, he wanted to just kiss her, just feel her lips against his, just taste her. But he composed himself and clenched his jaw and pulled one of the tall chairs over and ordered her to put her feet up. Blushing again, she did as told, and he could proceed with examining her feet. They looked dreadful, with large blisters under the front and scraped skin on the heels. He carefully emptied the water filled blisters with a sterilized needle and spread some cooling ointment over the soles before wrapping them in a thin layer of bandage.

"The ointment will help the healin'," he said. "It'll sting fer a while, but I don' think ye'll have much problem."

"Thank you, Dr. Telford," Hailey chuckled.

Looking up, he gave her a smile. He quite liked that, Dr. Telford. And especially the way she said it. He knew his father had been called that, and for a long time, Chibs had hated it, but now… well, if he was doctor, a man with a status, Hailey might—no. He abruptly interrupted himself and shook his head, feeling stupid and naïve. Huffing, he put the medical kit away and went to put on his brown leather jacket and placed his guns and knives in his shoulder holster. "C'mon, love. We gotta go te the garage."

She furrowed her brows. "But… it's Sunday?"

Chibs shook his head and let out a chuckle. "Doesn' matter, love. Cars won' fix themselves, even though it's Sunday."

**¤(SoA)¤**

It was as if she was back to square one. She was torn between trusting the Scotsman and fearing him, and gripping his waist made her heart flutter of fear and strange excitement, as it had the first time. But she kept thinking about what he'd told her about Juice. About him killing a member of the MC because of a mistake… it didn't sound like Juice at all. She knew he was broken, but _that_ broken, she had no idea. She didn't want to believe it. Juice was the only one she'd felt that connected to, and now, learning his dark secrets, she didn't know what to believe.

When they arrived at the garage, Hailey felt nervous. She had no idea how many knew about her little escapade last night, and she would imagine that Chibs wouldn't tell them that he was the one kicking her out, and her departure would then seem very suspicious. She could not afford that. The trust they had in her was already hanging by a thread. But she was greeted just as she always was, and there seemed to be no resentment. Not even from Tig. She found Juice in the club house, but as she was accompanied by Chibs, Juice simply gave her an apologetic smile and looked away. She didn't even know if she wanted to see him—she didn't know what to say to him.

Chibs hurried out to the garage, leaving Hailey in the club house, as usual. Only, this time, it didn't feel so usual. Hailey was nervous, and confused. Just because they greeted her as they normally did, didn't mean things were normal. She knew these men to be tricky and cautious, and when Tig approached her, her heart rate increased rapidly, and she swallowed.

He went to stand next to her by the bar, leaning against it while crossing his arms. "Are you okay?" He diverted his pale blue eyes towards her, and she looked away. He sighed. "You know, I lost a daughter 'couple of months back now." He hung his head, and Hailey clenched her jaw, not sure where he was heading. "Even though Chibs hasn't… _physically_ lost a daughter, he's been robbed of her life, and I can understand his pain now. Sweetheart, I don't know what you said about Kerrianne, but I do know this; if you had talked about my Dawn like that, I would've killed ya."

Hailey shivered. She was confused by his look and his words, because he looked as if he wanted to comfort her, but she didn't feel very comforted by his words. If anything, she felt more nervous.

But Tig cracked up in a smile. "Don't worry, sweetie," he said, "I'm not gonna kill ya, 'cause you won't say anything stupid about my girl, right?"

Hailey nodded.

"My point is," he sighed, "that you shouldn't be mad a Chibby for reacting the way he did. You sort of had it coming, and it could have been worse. He's actually a really good guy. Just a bit touchy when it comes to his family." Suddenly, he leaned closer, and Hailey held her breath. "Don't look so scared; we're the only ones who know about this. We, and Gemma. Jax doesn't know, and never will unless you tell him yourself."

Hailey looked at him, his pale eyes somehow honest. "Really?"

Tig huffed and straightened. "Give us some credit, darling! Chibs ain't stupid enough to tell Jax he kicked you out, and he ain't stupid enough to tell him you split, either. And I ain't a rat; I'm not tellin'."

Feeling a little less suspicious, Hailey nodded. "Thanks, Tig."

"Ah, don't sweat it, sweetheart," he smiled and pulled her into an embrace. "You know, we all really like you, Hailey. We don't wanna hurt you, but you've gotta start trusting us."

"Don't know if I can," she sighed against him, feeling his chest shake as he chuckled.

"You're a bit too smart for your own good, kid, you know that?" he said as he pulled away.

She gave him a smile before he left her again, and for some reason, she actually did feel a bit better. Maybe she wasn't screwed, after all?

Even though things went slow when it came to mending the trust that had been broken between her and Chibs, Hailey still found it a bit easier to be around him, as long as they stayed away from topics like Juice. Though, after many sleepless nights, she had finally realized her attraction to the Scotsman wasn't because of her weak state. It might have started off that way, but it certainly wasn't like that anymore, because she knew that even though he didn't trust her, and even though she might not be as lucky next time as getting kicked out before kicked in, she still felt her heart flutter every time he called her _love_. She still blushed each time he smirked at her, and her knees still trembled violently every time he got close, and for some reason, he seemed to do that a lot lately. Sometimes he just happened to pass her a bit too closely, and sometimes he brushed against her, seemingly innocently, but she had to grab hold of something each time not to fall. His hand had returned to her leg when they were riding the bike more frequently, and whenever they sat next to each other, his arm rested on the back of her chair. She didn't know if he took any notice of it, but she certainly did.

She had talked to Juice, but left out what Chibs had told her. She didn't want to ruin her friendship with him also, and thought it best to keep it as normal as possible. And it worked for her. Though, he didn't go back to Chibs' apartment. But they still talked a lot, and she tried to forget all the things Chibs had told her about him. As long as she didn't think about it, it worked.

It was the third week in Charming, and Hailey was, as usual, slumped over a table in the club house, reading a book she'd brought.

Suddenly, Juice came bouncing up to her, throwing a book in front of her. "I finished it."

She stared down at the book, _Of Mice and Men_, and she raised her brows. "You did?"

He laughed as he sat down. "Have a little faith in me!"

Hailey laughed, as well, and straightened. "So, what did you think?"

"Loved it," Juice shrugged. "I… I'm not gonna lie; I cried like a little girl."

Hailey nodded. "It's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Changed my life."

"Told you," she smirked. "Got more books, if you wanna—" But she was cut short as Chibs came to stand behind Juice, glaring down at the book on the table.

Juice frowned in wonder before he turned and faced the Scotsman's glare, and he gasped silently. "Chibs, man, you scared me!"

Chibs raised a brow and looked up at Hailey. "Promisin' things again, are we?"

She clenched her jaw. "No. But I—" But there were no time for her to finish the sentence, before a deafening noise of shattering glass and gunfire spread through the club house, and Juice pulled Hailey hastily on the floor, pushing the table over. "What's happening?!" she roared over the gunshots and breaking glass while holding her arms over her head.

"I don't know!" Juice shouted back, ducking at each shot.

She peeked over the edge of the table and saw Chibs boldly aiming his gun out the window, shooting blindly at whoever was firing at them, completely careless and exposed. Hailey turned to tell Juice to get him out of there, but Juice was gone, and as the gunfire died out, and the empty silence filled the club house, Hailey looked over the edge again and found both Chibs and Juice on the floor.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Glass was pressing into his hand, and rage was pumping through his body. It was in the middle of the day, and someone had the audacity to execute a drive-by trashing their club house?! Chibs had been determined to at least get one of those fuckers when he was tackled to the floor, and missed his shot. Annoyed and muttering, he shoved the heavy body off of him and realized it was Juice. He also realized he was covered with blood, and his heart stopped for a second when he realized he was shot. But there was no pain, and as he felt over his body, he could feel no warm wound. Suddenly cold in his veins, he looked over at the boy who'd thrown himself over him, and noticed the deep scarlet in his chest. "_Juice_!" Chibs hurried to rise to his knees and pulled the boy to his lap, and Juice struggled to breathe. The bullet had hit one of his lungs, gone right through from the back, fortunately on the right side, and not at his heart. Gripping the boy tightly, he looked up. Tig and Chucky rushed into the room, both of them looking confused.

"What the fuck's going on?!" Tig roared, but as he saw Juice, he dropped his jaw.

"Somebody call a fuckin' ambulance! Someone else, give me somethin' te stop the bleedin' with!" Chibs barked, and Tig fumbled with his phone and Chucky rushed to grab some towels. Chibs looked down at the boy in his arms, looked into his brown, doglike eyes. "Hold on, Juicy-boy," he said. "Ye're gonna be alright."

Bobby and Phil came barging in, as well, Phil holding a pair of broken glasses in his hands and Bobby with rage and horror written all over his face.

"What the fuck just happened?!" Bobby barked. "Is Juice shot?!"

"He took a bullet for me," Chibs said as Chucky returned with two towels, and Chibs pressed them against Juice's chest while keeping pressure on the entry wound with his knee. The boy tried to speak, but Chibs shook his head. "Don't. Ye've been shot an' yer lung is punctured an' yer bleedin' heavily. Ye need te keep calm an' just try te breathe. Don' talk." From the corner of his eye, he saw Hailey crawling up to his side, and with shaky hands reached to hold the towels against Juice's chest, allowing Chibs to check things like pulse.

Tig kneeled beside them, as well. "Ambulance is on its way. I called Jax as well."

"Do we know who did this?" Chuck asked, his voice breaking.

"I think this is a good clue." Bobby held up a red brick with a note fastened to it. It wore the sign of The Righteous, and a mutual thought passed through their heads; _war_.

Breathing rapidly, Chibs looked at the redheaded girl keeping a worried gaze at Juice, and he clenched his jaw. There was a terrible shot of pain and worry in him; she had been in danger. She could have been shot. What would he have ever done if it was her he cradled, and not Juice? He looked at Tig. "Take her te my place, and don' let her out of yer sight."

Hailey snatched her head up. "I wanna go to the hospital with you guys!"

Chibs shook his head. "No. It's too dangerous. Ye go with Tig."

"But I—"

"Ye go with Tig." He glared at her, refusing to give in to her begging, beautiful eyes. No, it would be all too dangerous, for all of them. Tig would protect her. He would protect her with his life, Chibs knew that.

As the ambulance arrived, Chibs explained the injuries to the medics, and he was told to come with them, keeping pressure on the wound. They told him that without his quick thinking, Juice would be dead by now. In the ambulance he kept talking to Juice, softly and calmly, to keep the boy calm. He was given oxygen and some anodyne, and as he was rushed into the hospital, Chibs wasn't allowed to come any further. Sighing deeply, of both devastation and relief, he leaned against a wall and slid down to the floor, keeping his head between his knees and putting his bloody hands above his head.

**¤(SoA)¤**

She was pacing the kitchen furiously, and had been for the last hour, since she arrived back at the apartment with Tig. Tig was sitting in the sofa, flipping through some channels on the TV.

"Has he called yet?" Hailey asked.

Tig sighed and turned. "For the twentieth time; no." After another sigh, he turned the TV off. "Look, Juice'll be alright! He's a tough kid, he'll make it through."

But Hailey wasn't calmed by this. She kept pacing the kitchen. He hadn't even called. An hour, and Chibs hadn't called to give an update of the situation. Sighing deeply, she decided all she could do was to occupy herself with something. So, she dug out Chibs' computer and started it up, determined to try to figure something out concerning Siegfried Barnaum and those goddamn codes.

Logging into the Swiss bank's homepage, and looking around a bit, she suddenly noticed a message sent to Mr. Barnaum's page. Hesitantly, but too curious to not, she opened it.

'_To whom it may concern,_

_I would like to congratulate you for finding and solving the codes to the Hayton Barnaum Treasury. On the behalves of the late Mr. Siegfried Barnaum, I hereby grant you the total of 550 475 000 CHF (602 433 111 USD). _

_For further validation and information, please proceed to dial the attached number._

_Signed,_

_Mark Pertille, Head Manager of the Hayton Barnaum Treasury, Gerster Capital, Zürich, CH.' _

Hailey read through the message again and again. Six hundred million dollars… so it was true? The money was there, and she had the keys to unlock seven more accounts, all containing at least the same amount? Heart racing, she hurried to log in with the other codes as well, and was greeted by the same message. She brought out a paper and a pen, and with shaky hands, she wrote down the numbers from all eight account numbers. She was excited, worried and frightened when she could finally start to add them all together.

Her head was spinning with sums, all over nine digits long, and she had to recount it several times, because the final sum she got was so unreal, she couldn't believe it to be true. _Eight point two billion dollars_… that was more money that she could imagine. Was it real? Could a World War II collection have been sold for that kind of money, and what idiot would buy it? Was there even that much money _in_ the world? Was it real or was it fake? Was it a set up to get thieves? But she didn't steal them… she snatched a look at Tig. He was watching TV again. She was breathing shallowly as she read through the message again. Further validation and information… was there other things she'd have to do to get the money? Even though she hated herself for it, a small sense of greed started to spread through her body. She couldn't deny it; eight billion dollars was a lot of money, and she alone had access to it. Sure, Chibs had the codes on his computer, but he couldn't open the file with them on. Hailey was the only one who could open it up. If she wanted, she could mess things up for others by making new codes out of the ones she'd already deciphered, codes only she knew how to encode. If she wanted to… Tig gave a loud laugh at something stupid on the TV, and Hailey flinched. She glared at him, putting her hand over her heart as she huffed. She needed to calm down. Tig had no idea of what she just found out. No one had. No one knew. No one… she scribbled down the number onto the piece of paper and tore it off and shoved it into her pocket, logging off from the bank and closing the computer, trying to seem as innocent as possible, though her heart was racing furiously. Tig knew about the five billion dollars that was _believed_ to be on those accounts, they all did, but for all they knew, it could all be a hoax, a false myth. Of course, until she had actually spoken to this Mark Pertille, she didn't know if it was real or not, either. But she had at least further proof. But if this was true, if there was over eight billion dollars all and all on those accounts, if that call would validate that she was the only one who had access to it, she didn't know if she would be able to trust the Sons of Anarchy anymore.

She didn't know if she would be able to trust anyone ever again.


	15. Shakes Our Faith

**A/N: **My beloved readers! I don't even know where to begin to express my gratitude to you all! You make it all worth while! I love you!

Alright, so it's time for another chapter! I can tell you, that it was close to not being completed today, at all.. but I made it, and here it is!

The song for today's chapter is _Mrs. O_ by **The Dresden Dolls**, and it's a wonderful song! The thing about it, is that the lyrics are bloody genious! No kidding! Go check it out, both the song and the lyrics! :)

Enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Fifteen**

"_Everything they ever told us shakes our faith and breaks their promise."  
_— _Mrs. O, The Dresden Dolls_

When Chibs returned, he explained that Juice had been in surgery and that he was now in the recovery. He had been fortunate; the bullet passed right through, punctured the lung but missed a major artery by barely an inch. He was beside himself of worry, and when Tig had left, Hailey made the man a nice warm cup of tea. Sighing, he pulled her into an embrace, rather unexpectedly.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled and squeezed her tightly, "fer puttin' ye in this kind o' situation."

Chuckling, she pulled away, though she'd rather want to just stay there, in his arms. "Well, I think I did most of it myself, really. Those codes have been my curse from the moment I cheated on that test." She did not lie, and she had to keep a fake smile smudged across her face. He didn't know about the three billons dollars more that was supposed to be on those accounts, and he hadn't received the same validation she had concerning the money. She wanted to dial the number, make the call, but she was worried. Could she, if the situation required, succeed on getting enough money to arrange a trip to Switzerland, without Chibs knowing about it? Hardly. If she was, she'd have to be rather clever about it. But she kept a straight face. Before she knew what to do with this new information herself, there was no need of telling the others of it.

Chibs furrowed his brows. "Aye, a curse, alrigh'!"

"So," she urged, "what's the plan? I mean, you're _looking_ for me now, aren't you? So, what happens when you _find_ me?"

"We're tryin' te think o' somethin'," Chibs said and took a sip of his tea.

"And how's that coming along?"

He raised a brow. "Do ye have an idea yerself, or wha'?"

She shrugged. "Not really. I just… well, this shooting, do you think it had anything to do with me?"

He shook his head. "Nah, I think it was retaliation fer us takin' care o' those lads."

"This long after?" Hailey raised a brow. "Seems rather strange, don't you think? I mean, if they waited this long, do you really think they'd do something as simple as a drive-by?"

"'Cause ye know so much about retaliation, right?" Chibs sneered.

Hailey huffed. "No, but I'm not stupid."

"Well, they are," Chibs shrugged.

She had to accept that simple explanation and drop the subject. She had a feeling he simply didn't want to tell her the whole story, the entire theory concerning the drive-by. He said it was a miracle only Juice was hit, because apparently, there had been more than one car. He kept repeating the fact that they did it in the middle of the day and how unusual that was, and how reckless it was. It scared him, he said, that it had been in the middle of the day, because if they could do something like that in the middle of the day, nothing would stop them from attacking them amongst others, on main street or in a shop. They would have to watch their backs all the time now, he said.

She just sat in silence and listened to his rambling. She didn't know what to say or what to do about the matter, and therefore, she let it be. She was more worried about Juice, anyway. She wanted to see him, but Chibs didn't allow her out of the apartment. He said he didn't want to treat her like a prisoner of some sort, but if she would ever try to get out at this point, he would personally tie her down and put her in the closet. He said it with a glimmer in his eyes and with humor in his voice, but Hailey sensed a seriousness in it as well, and it only further validated her theory that she was the reason to this horrible act of violence.

She was imprisoned in the apartment for days, Tig and Bobby taking turns on keeping her company while Chibs spent a great deal of time at the hospital, making sure Juice had everything he needed, and he only came back for a short while, to make sure they were all breathing in the apartment, before he went away to the garage, probably to try and come up with a plan of revenge with Jax.

Hailey was bored. And her head was so filled with things she wanted to do, things she wanted to tell someone, she didn't know what to do with herself. She knew she couldn't tell Tig, or Bobby, or Jax, or even Chibs. But… she could tell Juice. Only, she _couldn't_ because she wasn't allowed out of the freaking apartment!

It was the second day after the shooting, and when Chibs came back from the club, and Bobby left, Hailey noticed that Bobby had forgotten his cell in the sofa. Or maybe more so, he'd _dropped_ it. No matter, Hailey found it, and hid it in her hands before Chibs would notice.

"I hate hospitals," he muttered as he disarmed himself onto the kitchen counter after saying good bye to Bobby. "They have no bloody idea wha' comfort is or wha' regular check-ups are!"

"Why, what happened?" Hailey asked while discreetly tucking the cell in under her sweater.

Chibs sighed. "Juice had somehow torn some stitches on his back, an' no one noticed it. Aye, it was a bleedin' miracle I noticed the blood on the sheets!"

Furrowing her brows, Hailey walked over to the kitchen, concealing the bulging object under her sweater with her hands. "Seriously? That's terrible! Coffee?"

"Please," he sighed and sat down by the island. "I've been dyin' fer some proper coffee."

Her heart was pounding rapidly as she fixed the coffee. She cell lay cold against her belly, and while having her back turned to Chibs, she quickly moved the phone from her belly to place it inside her bra. As she served him the coffee, she gave him a smile. "Here you go."

"Ah, thanks, love," he said. "Really, wha' would I do without ye?"

"Make your own damn coffee?" Hailey sneered.

Chibs barked a laugh. "Tha'll be the day! No, but seriously; wha' do ye do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Whenever ye make the coffee, ye get this special flavor to it…" He narrowed his eyes and watched her over the edge of his cup, and Hailey looked away, feeling the burn on her cheeks.

"Oh, it's nothing," she said. "Just a bit of vanilla."

"Aye, an' a bit o' Miss Hailey, as well," he smiled and took a large sip, and Hailey couldn't help but to chuckle—even though the feeling of betrayal started to tear through her. She would betray him. She would have to.

On the third day, Tig was the one staying over. He suggested them to play a game of cards, a game he had invented himself which included taking one's clothes off whenever there was a number over three thrown into the pot, and even though he begged her for at least half an hour, she refused, and in the end, they were watching TV. But an hour later, or perhaps one and a half, Tig's phone rang, and he was called back to the club house. Hailey heard how he discussed whether or not to bring Hailey, and in the end, it was apparently decided that it would be safest for her to stay by herself in the apartment, given she wielded the gun at all times.

"Oh, and have you seen Bobby's phone?" Tig asked at one time during the discussion, and Hailey rapidly shook her head. "No, she hasn't seen it."

When Hailey then was left alone, after a lot of instructions and repetitions from Tig, she watched how the man drove away before she ran into the bedroom and dug out the cell phone she'd hidden under her pillow. She tore it apart and was relieved when she found out that it was a Prepay, so it wouldn't be traceable. Not knowing how long she had before anyone came back, she paced the kitchen with the banker's number in her one hand and with Bobby's phone in the other. She had to know, but she didn't know what would happen if she dialed that number. Would they find her? Would they kill her?

Slowly, and hesitantly, she dialed the number and pressed the green button. The strange signals indicated a foreign number, and she started to sweat and tremble uncontrollably.

Suddenly, someone answered. "_Congratulations for reaching the Hayton Barnaum Treasury. My name is Mark Pertille, how can I help you?_"

Stunned, unable to speak, she simply stuttered, "I…"

Mark Pertille chuckled. "_I suspect you never intended on finding these accounts, am I right?_" He had this very subtle French twang on his words, and even his laugh seemed genuine and friendly.

"Yes," Hailey managed to say.

"_Let me explain further,_" said the banker. "_The Hayton Barnaum Treasury is the life savings of one Mr. Siegfried Barnaum. Mr. S. Barnaum sadly passed away last January. My client had no family and as his fortune had grown to the size it is today, he thought the best way to give it up was to give it to someone who deserved it. Gerster Capital has been world leading in bank security for almost one and a half century, and therefore we have ensured the safety for our clients. As Mr. Barnaum is no longer with us, and as you are the one to reach us first, that makes you our new client, Miss…?_"

Hailey swallowed. She considered giving him a false name, but as she figured it would last in the long run. Hesitantly, she said, "Hailey Reed."

"_Miss Reed, would you like to use your real name or would you prefer to be called by an alias?_"

She furrowed her brow. "Well… um… I'd rather use an alias."

"_Very well, how does Amanda Hayes sound?_" He sounded very polite, very professional, and even though she feared she couldn't trust anyone, she still felt as if he was pretty much harmless.

"It sounds good."

"_Well then, Miss Hayes, as you may know the money is for now locked into the accounts_," Mr. Partille continued. "_To be able to in any way touch the money, you will have to come to a personal meeting here in Zürich. Would you like to make an appointment right away?_"

"Um…" Hailey yelped. "I… don't think that's possible."

Mr. Partille was silent for a while. Then he took a deep breath. "_Miss Hayes, you are now one of our most prioritized clients. If there's anything you need help with, we're inclined to provide. That… also includes support and protection…_"

Sighing, she sat down in the sofa. "I'm… there are people after me. I wasn't supposed to find out this much. If they find out about this… they'll kill me."

The banker sighed heavily at the other end. "_Miss Hayes, you are the owner of this treasury now. If anyone else wants the money, you must give your consent first. That's the will of Mr. Barnaum. Without your signature, and official statement, the money will remain untouchable if you are assassinated. So they will not gain anything by doing that, I can assure you_."

Clenching her jaw and gripping the phone tighter in her hand, she asked, "can you assure my safety?"

"_If you want_," he answered. "_High priority clients with your capital entrusted in us, Miss Hayes, can have whatever it chooses._"

She bit her lip, not knowing what to choose or what to say. It did sound very tempting; if Gerster Capital had that kind of resources, that could mean that she could go back to Harvard, finish her studies, and all the while have protection if she needed it. But then again, could she trust them? "How can I know I can trust you?"

There was another heavy sigh from Mr. Partille. Not a bored sigh, nor a frustrated one. "_I understand you are in a difficult situation, Miss Hayes. This amount of money often brings anxiety and paranoia. Mr. Barnaum was well aware that this could bring misfortune, and was advised not to go through with it. However, it was his wish, and so it be done. We can offer you protection as well as mental help to get pass the transition period._"

Hailey shook her head, somewhat impatient, even though she knew he wouldn't see it. "I don't need a shrink. I need to know if this is real; that I am the only one who can touch this money and how this will work. I need to know I can trust you."

"_When we finish this call, Miss Hayes, I will personally deal with all the required paperwork and get back to you within three days,_" said the banker, very professionally. "_To validate yourself, you will have to give me your alias—which then is, of course, rather better to keep to yourself—together with all the even numbers in each and every account number. I'm afraid I cannot tell you any more than that for the time being, but be prepared for what could be a rather long conversation._"

Hailey furrowed her brows. Long conversation?

"_As for the trust;_ _I told you, Gerster Capital is world leading when it comes to bank security,_" he continued. "_We have a lot of experience when it comes to integrity and personal information. There is no authority that has the right to enter our archives and files, and we have a strict ethnical principle of confidentiality. Your real name will never be revealed to anyone but me and your chosen trustees. Should you, for some very unfortunate reason, suddenly perish before you get the chance to write a will including the treasury, the money within these accounts will be automatically locked into what is called a Stalemate, which means the money will be beyond anyone's reach for five decades. After fifty years, the money will go directly to your closest relative_."

It all sounded good. It all sounded logical and safe and relieving and calming… and yet, she didn't feel calm. "So," she started, "you will get back to me in three days?"

"_Yes_," Mr. Partille said. "_You are at the top of our lists, Miss Hayes. Unfortunately, this is a rather busy time. But three days is the maximum for high priority clients._"

"Okay," Hailey sighed. "Thank you very much."

"_I hope you the best, and I will always be at your service_," said the banker, and for some stupid reason, she actually believed him. "_Good day, Miss Hayes_."

The dial tone echoed in her ear, and it took a while for her to actually comprehend what had happened. She simply stared at the phone, not knowing what to think, what do to do. Her heart was hammering away inside of her. She needed to talk to someone, she needed to talk to Juice. Clenching her jaw tightly, she determinedly rose and strode into the bedroom. Tearing through Chibs' closet, she grabbed a shirt that was much too big for her, but she didn't care. She grabbed the bucket hat that homeless lady had given her, and snatched a pair of sunglasses from Chibs' collection. Making sure her hair was properly tucked in, she grabbed the extra key to the apartment, and locked the door properly behind her as she left.

**¤(SoA)¤**

"We need to suit up," Jax said. The members of the club nodded in agreement. "If Tyler's got his men in my town, spying on us, we need to be extra careful, but we need to show him we won't accept it."

"What did he say about the drive-by?" Tig asked.

"He said it wasn't him," Jax answered. "Said it ain't his style."

Chibs sat in silence. His head was full of thoughts, full of worry. Suddenly, Hailey's voice popped into mind, about it being strange that it took them three full weeks of planning such a retaliation. He looked at Jax. "If it is retaliation fer wha' we did te those lads," he started, "they're dumber than we give 'em credit fer."

"What do you mean?" Bobby raised a brow.

Chibs took a deep breath. "If they waited three weeks fer retaliation, one would think the'd planned somethin' worse, right?"

Jax furrowed his brow, but then he nodded. "Yeah… it doesn't take three weeks to arrange a drive-by. Unless they needed to get guns…"

"And who's been dealing 'em guns?" Clay asked from the end of the table.

With a deep, heavy and frustrated frown, Jax sighed. "Tyler."

"He's got to have a reason to gun us down," Bobby said. "Especially as we're doing business with them, sort of."

"How the fuck can he know we've got her?!" Tig asked.

"He doesn'," Chibs growled. "It's impossible." He glared at Tig; God forbid anyone had seen her when she had been out on her own… of course that was when they'd seen her! Tig glared back; he was thinking the same thing.

"We'll have to be more careful," Jax said, "that's all. I'll try and talk to Tyler, again. See if there's anythin' he's hiding. Meanwhile, we'll have to make sure no one—and I mean no one—sees Hailey."

Swallowing, Chibs clenched his jaw and focused his eyes on his tightened fist.

**¤(SoA)¤**

St. Thomas Hospital… she knew she went past St. Thomas Hospital when she ran away from Chibs. She knew she'd seen it… but then, a road sign appeared. With a relieved sigh, she hurried along. About twenty minutes later, she found herself inside the hospital. She asked for a Juice Ortiz, and was taken to a room by a nurse. Well inside, she found Juice, half sitting, half lying, watching something stupid on the TV. Hailey closed the door and pulled down the blinds.

Juice gasped. "Hailey?"

She turned and put her finger against her lips as she tore off her shades. "Be silent!"

"What are you doing here?!" He was not very inclined to obey her.

She hurried to sit down by his bedside. "I wanted to see you. Can you keep a secret?"

Frowning, he slumped his shoulders. "Please, don't ask me to lie!"

"I'm not," Hailey assured. "I just need to tell you something, and I need to you promise me not to tell anyone else. Especially not Jax. Can you do that?"

He sighed deeply, while chewing the insides of his cheek. "Fine."

Relieved, she proceeded with telling him everything she'd learned. Juice was just as boggled as her, not knowing whether or not to believe it. When she had finished, Juice didn't speak for a good minute. He then looked at her an raised his brows. "So… you're really a billionaire?"

"You really think so?" She was worried, but so relieved she'd told someone.

"Well, it sounds legit," he said. He then sighed. He seemed sad.

"What's wrong?" She carefully placed a hand on his arm.

He shook his head, without looking at her. "You should do it."

"Do what?"

"Go to Switzerland," he said and looked at her, the brown eyes warm yet sorrowful. "Let the bank arrange your trip, and just go! Get the money, get yourself some protection, a brand new identity… you'll be safe! You can _buy_ your freaking Harvard diploma, and then go to Italy and do what you want! Hailey, it's your best chance!"

Not knowing what to say, she just sat gaping at him. "What do you mean?"

"What part of 'go' don't you understand?!" Juice growled.

Hailey gasped and pulled away. "I'm sorry," she snorted. "I just thought we had a bit tighter bond than that."

Juice frowned. "I… I didn't mean it like that! I just—you have a chance!" He sighed. "You have a chance to get out, get a new life. If I ever—you should consider yourself very lucky."

Sighing again, Hailey took his hand in hers. "I have an idea."

"What?"

She clenched her jaw and sighed. Oh, it had been starting to form in her head when she first found out that they had made a deal with Tyler, though she had never known how to execute it until now. "I go to Zürich, and I take the money and move it to another account. I put a part of it to a bank account for the club, and then I take some of it for myself. I leave, let say a billion dollars, on the original accounts, and make it look like I never touched a thing. Tyler's only _heard_ about five billion dollars. He couldn't have known about it for certain, so if it turns out there's only _one_ billion on those accounts, he can't do a think about it. I then come back here, you guys _find_ me, turn me in to Tyler. He gets out of Charming, he gets his money, and you guys are rich as hell."

"What about you?" Juice spoke silently. He obviously couldn't deny that the plan sounded rather tempting.

"Don't worry about me," she mumbled. "I'll… figure something out."

"Don't think any of us are gonna let you do that," Juice warned.

Hailey scoffed. "When they learn about the money, they won't give a damn about me."

"Is that really how you see us?" Juice asked and furrowed his brows. "As some greedy bastards? Is that how you see _me_?"

"All men are greedy, Juice," Hailey muttered. "It's just that not many have actually been that rich."

Juice huffed and pulled his hand away from hers. "You're unbelievable, you know that? We are _protecting _you! Chibs keeps you under his roof and feeds you! Gemma buys you clothes! You have no _idea_ of what is said when you're not around! We all care about you! Tig almost thinks you're his _daughter_! For fuck's sake, Hailey, we all _love_ you! We'd do anything for you! You're one of us!"

Hailey crossed her arms and clenched her jaw and refused to look at him. She wasn't one of them, and Juice knew that. She would never be one of them, and Juice knew that as well. It was pointless for him to sit there and make such things up. However, she knew there had to be _some _kind of affection for her, since they were all acting so relaxed around her. And _she_ had certainly grown to care for them, a lot. And that was one of the reasons she wanted to go through with the plan. How she would make it out of it alive was another question.

"You may think differently," Juice continued, "but it's true. They'd never agree on it. Jax has been thinking about a way to get us all out of this safely."

"And how successful has he been?" she muttered.

"Give him some time," Juice said. "He'll figure something out, and you'll be safe."

"Juice!" Hailey barked. "I'm _not_ safe! Don't you get it? I don't even know if I'm safe with _you_! God, now I even regret telling you about this whole thing in the first place!"

"You can trust me!" he said.

"Yeah, but can I trust the others?" She rose and put her hands on her hips and sighed. "Can I trust Jax? Bobby? Tig? _Chibs_?"

"Yes, you can," Juice said sternly. "If you allow yourself to."

She huffed and crossed her arms. "What a load of crap. Look, you have to promise me not to tell anyone! Promise!"

"Hailey, I—"

"Promise!"

"Okay, okay!" Juice spat. "Yes, I promise! But you have to promise me not to do anything stupid! Okay?"

Sighing, she nodded. "Fine, I promise."

"Good," he nodded. "Now, go back before Chibs notice you're gone."

She gave him a quick smile before she leaned in to kiss his forehead. "Get well soon, okay?"

"I'll do my best," he smiled.

And with that, she left the room, after putting her shades back on. She hurried along the hall, keeping her head down and avoiding as many people as possible, afraid that someone, somehow might recognize her, but she managed to get out of the hospital unnoticed. As she walked away from the building, she couldn't help but to think about what Juice had said, about her leaving her life behind to get a new one; to _buy_ a new one. It wasn't a _very_ bad idea… she just didn't know if she had the courage to actually do it. Or if she _could_ do it. For some reason, Chibs' face popped into her mind; those dark, intelligent eyes, that slightly crooked nose, those scars across his face and the dimples that lighted the gloominess of them whenever he smiled. She would have to leave him, too. But she had to remind herself, that he wasn't really a part of her life. He wasn't a part of anything, really, just a hold-up, a safe passage from one phase to another. But there was so much more to this whole thing than that. Could she really say that the Sons of Anarchy only were a safe transition? Could she really say that she didn't feel emotionally bonded with these people? No, she couldn't. She had grown to care about them all so much, she didn't know if she would be able to let them go just like that. Juice had been such a good friend to her; Bobby was probably the nicest man she'd ever met; Tig was like this weird yet loving uncle she never had; Jax was like her big brother; Chibs was… she didn't want to think about what Chibs was. She didn't know what he was. She knew what she wanted him to be, but that was as far from reality as she could possibly get. They'd had their moments, and she might have thought that there might have been something there sometime, but she was far too uncertain about her own feelings, no less his. But the feeling of being in his arms, pressed against his chest, taking in his scent, feeling his hands on her back… that feeling was indescribable, and if she could only—

Without looking where she went, she suddenly bumped right into two men, both dressed in black suites, with shades on. She fell, but one of the men was fast and caught her by the arm. The bucket hat fell off, and her red curls fell softly over her shoulders, and she gasped.

"I'm very sorry, Miss," said the man as he helped her up. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," she said weakly. "Thank you… and, I'm sorry. I—I should watch where I go."

"You certainly should," said the other man as he picked up the bucket hat, dusted it off and gave it to her. "You never know who you might bump into. Have a nice day, Miss."

Hesitantly, she grabbed the hat and thanked him before she continued walking, her legs trembing. But there was a strange feeling in her belly, a worried feeling, and she hurried her steps. _Thump-thump_… _thump-thump_… her heart echoed violently in her ears. Her breathing was shallow. She did not turn her head; she didn't want to know whether or not the men were following her. Instead, she rushed onwards.


	16. Hollywood

**A/N: **Time for another chapter, though I'm publishing this much, _much_ earlier than I usually do. Oh well. I am very surprised at myself for getting this done in only a couple of hours when it usually takes about a day, but now, it's here. It's action filled and I hope it leaves you worried, excited, entertained, satisfied and hungry for more!

So, today I'll actually give you _**two songs**_ for this chapter! The one included in the title is _Hollywood_ by **The Cranberries**, an absolutely brilliant song, and if you haven't heard it, you know the drill; go listen to it! But, I will also give you an **additional** song; it's instrumental, and therefore, it would be kind of hard to include a quote from it, but it's _In The House - In A Heartbeat_ by composer **John Murphy**, featured in the movie _28 Days Later_, but has been frequently reused for various trailers and movies. I urge you to listen to these two songs while reading this chapter to get into the right mood!

And now;

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Sixteen**

"_This is not Hollywood like I understood."  
_— _Hollywood, The Cranberries_

She sig-sagged all the way back to the apartment, praying to whatever God that had the time to listen, that Chibs wouldn't be back yet. Now and then she glanced over her shoulder, but she had no followers as far as she could see. However, if it were men used to shadowing people, she suspected they would make sure to stay in the shadows.

Once she returned, she was relieved to find the garage empty. They weren't back yet, and she rushed into the apartment, closing and locking the door after her. Well inside, she listened for a moment, to make sure she didn't hear breathing in the apartment, or steps in the hallway outside. But there was only silence. Breathing heavily, she tore the bucket hat off and tossed the shades onto the counter and then sank down in the sofa, trying to calm herself. Those men were just regular businessmen. Yeah, they weren't looking for her. She was being paranoid. Too paranoid, really. It wasn't as if she was wanted throughout the country. She wasn't even reported missing. And why would Tyler's men be here, really? He had the Sons looking for her, so why would he waste money and manpower to look for her? A little less anxious, she sighed and looked up the ceiling. She suddenly remembered she forgot to ask Juice how he was doing… oh, she was a horrible friend! Hiding her face in her hands, she groaned. She had been all too busy telling him about what she'd just found out, she had completely forgotten that Juice was the one who deserved the attention. Disappointed in herself, she grabbed the nearest book she could find and disappeared into another world.

She didn't know for how long she had been reading, but at least for a couple of hours, when suddenly, Bobby's phone rang. She gasped loudly and threw the book aside to stare at the ringing cell phone. It was an unknown number, and Hailey bit her lip. Was it someone who was looking for Bobby? If it was, she could always pretend to be some Crow Eater back at his place. However, if it was the banker, calling back so soon… but why would he call back so soon? Then again, she _did_ have a lot of money at their bank. Maybe she was at the _very_ top of their list? But what time was it in Switzerland, anyway? What time had it been when she'd called that same morning? Huffing at her self, she flipped the phone open and put it to her hear. "Hello?"

"_Look out the window facing east_." It was a female. "_Make sure no one sees you while doing it_." It was a British woman, and Hailey froze. "_Do you see the car?_"

Hesitantly and with shaky legs, Hailey made her way to the kitchen window and peeked out. There, on the back yard, facing the park on the other side, stood a black, shiny car that did not belong to the scene. She'd never seen it before. "Yeah," she breathed, feeling her heart rise up her throat, and something grabbed her chest form the inside.

"_In about five minutes, someone will enter your apartment_," said the female. "_You have to get out of there. Are you armed?_"

Panic. It was panic that rose in her chest and grabbed hold of her. Feeling completely paralyzed, she couldn't say a word.

**¤(SoA)¤**

"It's on," Jax said after coming out of the chapel, while all the others waited impatiently by the bar. "Tyler agrees on a meeting, today."

"When?" Tig asked.

"Now," Jax said. "Chibs, Bobby, you guys come with me."

"What about me?!" Tig cried. "Jax man, you need me!"

"I need you here," Jax said and clenched his jaw. "Tyler hasn't seen you. He's more likely to be more relaxed if I bring people he's already met."

Disappointed and swearing, Tig turned with his hands on his hip.

Chibs nodded. "We're with ye, Jackie-boy."

Jax looked at Chibs; there was a worry in his eyes, and Chibs knew it had to do with the fact that Tyler might not say what they wanted to hear. If he knew they'd been going behind his back, they'd be in trouble. A muscle flexed in Jax's jaw, before he turned his attention to Bobby. "You're with me?"

The old man nodded. "Yeah."

Jax called for Tig, and the man turned again. "Why don't you go back to Chibs'? Keep Hailey company?"

"Nah," Tig said. "The girl needs some space."

Jax nodded, and then he motioned Bobby and Chibs to follow.

**¤(SoA)¤**

"_Are you armed?_" the woman repeated.

"Yes," Hailey croaked.

"_Good_," the woman continued. "_Go_ _to the window facing north and climb out._"

Suddenly snatched back to reality, Hailey hurried to grab the gun on the kitchen island and ran into the bedroom. The window was straight ahead. Fumbling with one hand, she opened it. "It's too far down! I can't get out from that window!"

"_If you can get to the ledge below, you could reach the fire ladder and climb up the roof_." The woman's instructions were so precise, Hailey thought it to be a joke. But when looking out the window, she saw the small ledge below, and the ladder to the left. There would be quite a stretch, but it just might work. "_Before you go_," the woman suddenly said, "_make sure to cover all your tracks. If you want to return back, you'll have to make sure no one would see that you've been there._"

Nodding—even though the person on the other end of the line wouldn't see it—Hailey grabbed all of her clothes and shoved them under the mattress of the bed. She hurried into the bathroom, feeling how the clock steadily ticked away, and threw all of her things inside one of Chibs' shirt and put it in the laundry basket. She then hurried out to the window, while the woman in the phone urged her to go quicker, and as she climbed out, a suffocating fear of heights kicked in. "I can't do this! I can't do this!" Trying to breathe steadily, she nodded to herself. "Yes, you can, Hailey. You can do this. If Neil Armstrong could walk on the fucking moon, you can climb out a window without breaking your head."

**¤(SoA)¤**

This was the first time they were going to meet Craig Tyler without Damon Pope as go-betweener, and Chibs felt how his anger was rising, even though Tyler was, as usual, late. Would he be able to contain himself? Well, that was the question.

As the black, shiny car rolled into the abandoned warehouse's parking lot out in the desert, Jax put on a fake smile. "Let's get this sucker to talk, yeah?"

The other two agreed happily.

Just as always, Tyler's door was opened by the driver, and the man stepped out, with a much stern face. He buttoned his jacket as walked towards the three bikers. "G'day boys."

"Tyler," Jax said and nodded.

"Now, I heard ya boys wanted to talk to me, am I right?"

Chibs crossed his arms, mostly because he was afraid Tyler would see his closed fists, but also because he wanted to make sure his daggers were there, hanging securely over his shoulders, ready to pull if he needed it, together with his two glocks.

"I need to talk to you about the shootin'," Jax said. "We think you're the one who sold those guns to The Righteous."

Tyler laughed. "What if I did? They order, I deliver. What they do with it ain't my problem."

"Well, this is!" Jax spat and stared the man boldly in the eye. "We made a deal; while we look for the girl, you stay out of Charming!"

"No," Tyler sneered. "The deal was; when you give me the girl, I get outta Charmin'. How's it goin' with that, anyways?"

**¤(SoA)¤**

She carefully heaved her legs over the window seal and slowly lowered her down, keeping her feet against the wall, until she finally felt that ledge underneath her toes. It was a small one, and she had to grip the window seal tightly not to fall, all while holding the phone firmly in her one hand and the gun in her other, as well. She took a couple of deep breaths, before she started to move towards the ladder. When she was close enough to reach out and grab it, she made the move as carefully as possible, and when she finally stood with her whole weight onto the ladder, she gripped on for her life. With violently shaking hands, she brought the phone back to her ear. "I'm on the ladder. What now?"

"_Climb up, be as silent as possible and wait for the car to go before you climb back down._"

"Who are you?"

"_All you need to know is that you have to be more careful_," said the woman. "_Good day, Miss Reed._" And with that, the call ended. The dial tone rang clear even though Hailey pulled the phone from her ear and looked at it with furrowed brows. Suddenly she heard the front door open up, and she gasped loudly and hurried to climb up the ladder, as silently as she possibly could. Once on top of the roof, she bend over the edge to see if anyone was following her. No one was. Suddenly, a head popped out of the window and looked around, and Hailey ducked down, but still making sure she could see the head. It was one of the men she'd bumped into… a chilling fear spread through her body as she realized she were the one who'd led them to Chibs' home. She'd led them to him… she watched the man look around, and then he put a phone to his ear.

"The place is cleared," he said. "She's not here. No sign of her. It could have been a diversion, or a lucky shot. Affirmative. Yes. We'll clear the other places as well. She can't be far away." And with that, he pulled the head back and Hailey found herself staring at the opened window for a minute or two before she hurried over to look at the black car. She saw the two men, the same two men she'd bumped into that same day, walk over to the car. Had it not been for her being so unfocused and walking straight into them so that her hat fell off, this would never have happened. She ducked down again as the car rolled away, and when she was sure it was far enough, she climbed down the ladder again, and successfully climbed into the window.

Slowly and carefully, she snuck through the apartment, examining the door and the furniture. They had been real clever about it; there were no marks on the door, and nothing had been moved inside the apartment. They made sure that Chibs wouldn't notice a thing when he came back. With trembling hands and shallow breathing, she made sure to look everywhere for bugs, but she couldn't find one. Her heart was racing ragingly as she leaned against the door and slid down to the floor. Who was that woman? Why had she called? If she hadn't Hailey would have been taken, but by whom?

**¤(SoA)¤**

Craig Tyler's phone had rung in the middle of the meeting, and being the arrogant ass he was, he made the three bikers wait.

Chibs wasn't the only one getting annoyed by this fact, but he couldn't do a thing. In fact, none of them could do a thing. Tyler had his men ready, should the three white trash bikers get a seizure and start shooting all around them. Those were the actual words Tyler had used when walking away to take his call, and he'd talked to his men in the manner of whispering, but the volume of his voice was designed purely to offend them.

When he came back after his phone call, he sneered at them. "Well, gentlemen. Are we done here?"

"No," Jax growled.

Tyler sighed. "Teller, I've told ya; it ain't my problem what those idiots do with the guns they get from me. I sell 'em, they buy 'em. It's a simple as that. I bet you can relate to that, can't yah?"

"Yes, but we don't break deals," Jax growled again.

"Neither do I," Tyler said and shrugged. "I'm just makin' business. Now, if you don't mind, I have other things do to." He then fixed his tie and walked away to the car. Before unbuttoning his jacket, he raised his hands to the bikers. "Take it easy, boys." While the black car rolled away, a smoke of sand forming behind it, the three bikers looked at each other.

"Not very productive," Bobby grunted.

"Don't say that," Jax said. "We now know we can't make deals with this man."

"Ye needed this te understand tha'?" Chibs sneered. "Jackie-boy, no offence, but I thought it was pretty clear not te make deals with tha' prick when even Pope was afraid o' him."

"Yeah, well, we have something he wants," Jax said. "Let's see how far he'll go to get it."

Chibs shook his head. That was not a good idea. At all. Money could turn even the best of men into monsters.

"I've told you I don't think she should use the girl," Bobby said.

"Yeah, well, I don't think we have a choice anymore." And with that, he went back to his bike, put his helmet on and started the engine. Chibs and Bobby followed.

As the dirt and smoke surrounded the three bikes, none of them saw the black SUV that followed them. Not until a gunshot was heard over the roars of the engines, and Chibs felt his bike wobble. Someone had blown up his tire, and he soon lost control and went down. The impact was lesser than the bang from the blown tire, and Chibs kept his arms over his head as he rolled down a small hill on the roadside. When looking up, he was surrounded by a cloud of sand, but as it settled, he could see how both the SUV and Jax and Bobby had stayed, and there was an open fire back on the road. Two men were in the car, and as he saw them hiding behind the opened car doors, he could clearly see the shaved heads and the tattoos. One of them had a large swastika on the back of his head. Rising from the ground, he pulled his gun and ran to Jax and Bobby's aid. Sneaking up from behind the car, he succeeded to take one out, hit him right in the middle of that fucking swastika, and in the blink of an eye, and with the silenced sound of a gunshot, a bit of his head was suddenly missing, and the window of the car door splattered with blood and brain substance together with bald pieces of his blown off scull. Some of it had flown as far as to hitting Chibs' chest, and when the body fell to the ground, dead and incomplete, the other man from the other side of the car shouted loudly, called the name of the fallen, and shot several bullets through the car, forcing Chibs to crouch down to avoid getting hit. He got his shoulder grazed, but only enough to tear away some of the leather and scratch his skin.

Jax and Bobby hurried to help the Scotsman, and while Bobby hit the man in his shoulder with a blazing bullet, Jax succeeded on jumping the man, slamming his head against the car.

**¤(SoA)¤**

She was again pacing the kitchen. It was her fault. She was the one doing this. She had led them straight to the Sons of Anarchy. Had that been Tyler's men, he'd know they'd gone behind his back, and he would kill them. She knew that. Feeling how panic had almost taken over her completely, she shook her hands, flicking her fingers vigorously, as if to shake the panic out. In the end she had to sit down. When she was younger, in High School, and when the stress from school got too much, she had to go to a therapist. She taught her how to meditate, and as Hailey thought it to be outrageously stupid, she decided she'd never meditate in the whole of her life, and she hadn't. Until now. Because meditation was the only thing she could think of to calm herself with.

After thirty minutes, or maybe forty, she was calm again. The gun lay beside her—loaded, safety off. If anyone would come barging in, she would be prepared. Whoever that woman calling was, Hailey had to consider her as some kind of guardian angel. Maybe she was just a backstabbing, two-faced bitch, but at least Hailey was now prepared for that, as well. But the woman had known her name. She had called her by her name. So, whoever she was, she must know about Hailey. So, friend or foe? She didn't know.

Ten minutes passed, when Hailey heard a banging on the door. Clenching her jaw tightly, she grabbed the loaded gun and came to a stand by the door and raised the gun to eye level. It banged again.

"_Hailey_!" Tig's voice broke. Gasping, Hailey unlocked the door and was immediately pulled into a tight hug. She could literally feel Tig's heartbeats from his chest, and utterly surprised by this display, Hailey couldn't do else by to stand motionless. "I thought you were gone!"

"What's going on?"

Tig pulled away, gripping her shoulders. "So, they haven't been here?"

Swallowing hard, she frowned. "Who have?"

A deep, somewhat distorted face of relief spread across Tig's face as he pulled her in again. "Thank God! Damn girl, you nearly had me killed there, ya know!"

"Tig, what's going on?" She pulled away herself and looked into the man's pale blue eyes.

Sighing, Tig closed the door. "Tyler's men searched through the club house."

Hailey widened her eyes. "What?!"

"Yeah," Tig said and shook his head. "They were looking for you."

Swallowing again, she asked, "How many were there?"

"Three," Tig said. "Two men and this… _gorgeous _woman. I mean, the tits on that—"

"Tig!" Hailey sighed. "Who were they?"

"Right, sorry," Tig mumbled. "I dunno. Must have been Tyler's guys. Jax called right after they'd gone. Said he, Chibs and Bobby went into an ambush when going back from the meeting with Tyler. Nazis."

Hailey gasped. "What?! What happened? A-are they hurt?" Just like that, her heart rate increased again; not only had she led them to Chibs' home—she'd almost had him killed as well!

"They're fine," Tig assured. "But pissed. Jax was sure it was all Tyler's work."

"Did he say anything?" Hailey crossed her arms, feeling her cheeks redden. "About me?"

Tig shook his head. "No."

Drawing a deep sigh, Hailey nodded. "They still don't know where I am. That's good news."

"I had to come," Tig said and frowned, guilt staining his voice. "I had to make sure you were still here… I should have—I should have stayed here!"

Frowning, but smiling, Hailey huffed. "Yes, Tiggy, I'm here. I'm safe."

He nodded and rubbed his hand with his face. "Right… we'll I've gotta get back to the club house. You've got the gun, right?" Hailey held it up. "Good. Keep the door locked." Before he left, he pulled her to him and pressed a kiss against her forehead. "You stay safe, kid."

Hailey stood staring at the locked door after he'd gone. Sadness, emptiness and cold terror filled her as she slowly but steadily started to hyperventilate. Tears welled up in her eyes, and gripping the front of her chest, fingers like claws, she collapsed on the floor.

**¤(SoA)¤**

"Tell me, _was it Tyler_?!" Jax barked, but the skinhead only groaned through his swollen face and broken nose. Jax tightened his jaw firmly as gave the man another blow with his fist.

"Jackie-boy," Chibs cut in. "It's enough. Jax!" He grabbed the boy's fist before it hit the skinhead one more time, and Jax snapped his head to look at the Scotsman. "It's enough."

"He _shot_ at us!" Jax barked. "And I wanna know who told him to!"

Chibs sighed. "Step away, Jax."

"This man," Jax spat and pointed at the badly beaten skinhead, "almost killed you. He wrecked your bike. He almost killed me. He almost killed Bobby. Someone came to the club house today while we were out, looking for the girl. You think it's a coincidence?"

"Jax!" Chibs barked, closing his eyes and waiting for the boy to go quiet. When Jax had piped down, Chibs opened his eyes again, glaring at him, piercing his eyes into his. "Step away."

Jax knew, as well as Chibs, that in a stare down, no one could beat the Scotsman, and he finally looked away and stepped back.

Chibs sighed again and pulled his gun. He settled the muzzle against the skinhead's forehead. "Tell me, did Craig Tyler order this?"

The skinhead managed a laugh through the swollen face. "You don't know who you're dealing with." He then spit out, what seemed to be a gallon of blood, straight at Chibs.

Raging, Chibs let the steel of his gun fly across the skinhead's face, knocking out a tooth in the process, before he grabbed the man by the chin to straighten him up before again placing the muzzle at his head. "Let's try it again, shall we? Was it Craig Tyler?"

"I won't tell you a shit!" cried the skinhead. "That fucking cunt won't live much longer!"

Straightening, Chibs clenched his jaw and looked at Jax. The young Teller held his gaze for a while before he nodded coldly while slightly snarling. Chibs nodded back and set the muzzle against the Nazi's head, and fired.

They left the scene before making sure the crime would never bounce back on them, making it look like some sort of gang crime between the White Power gangs. Chibs' bike wasn't all trashed, and even though the tire was blown up, he could drive it as far as to the main road before they called to have Phil pick it up with tow truck. Phil didn't ask what had happened as he and Chibs sat in the car on the way back to the garage. It was one of the things he really appreciated about the fat bastard; he wasn't nosy, and fiercely loyal. Chibs asked about the club house, and Phil told them there wasn't much to tell; two nicely dressed men had entered together with this incredibly hot woman. They'd claimed they were from the police, but no one had a badge to prove it, and they had searched through the premises. They hadn't destroyed anything; they barely touched it. They just looked through all the rooms, and then they were on their way. When Chibs asked about Hailey—a worry that had burned in his chest ever since that skinhead had mentioned her as "that fucking cunt"—Phil said that she was unharmed, and that Tig was on his way to her as they spoke.

"Good," Chibs muttered. "Make sure he stays there. I have te get te the hospital te make sure they haven' got Juice."

"I can take you there right away," Phil shrugged.

"No," Chibs said. "I wanna see the club house first."

As they pulled into the compound, Jax and Bobby had already arrived. Chibs jumped out of the car, not caring about the bike on the back, and strode into the club house. Happy and a prospect both wondered what the hell had happen, seeing as Chibs was covered with blood, but he didn't listen. Instead he went straight up to Jax.

"Is anythin' taken? Moved? Destroyed?" he asked.

Jax shook his head, slowly. "Nothin'. They haven't touched a thing. They were looking for her. They know we have her."

Chibs clenched his jaw. He knew he had to tell Jax about the fight they'd had. He had to. He just didn't know how to say it. "Jax, I—" But he was interrupted by Tig who came storming in.

"Jesus Christ, man!" he said. "What the fuck happened?! Christ, Chibs, you look like shit!"

Chibs stared at the man. "Wha' are ye doin'?"

"Why, what do you mean?" Tig asked, seemingly oblivious to what he was supposed to do.

"Ye are supposed te look after Hailey!" Chibs barked. "They're lookin' fer her, ye stupid son of a—"

"She's fine!" Tig said. "I just left, she was fine! They don't know she's there! Better to keep her there, right?!"

Sighing frustratedly, Chibs closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Tig, ye're an idiot."

"Yeah, 'cause this whole thing is _my_ fault, right?!" Tig spat and put his hands on his him.

This caused Chibs to fling his eyes open and glare murderously at the man. He knew what Tig implied… what made it worse was that he was probably right.

"It's nobody's fault!" Jax cut in, before the two could start strangling each other. "We must have slipped, somewhere, somehow. It could have been anywhere. It could have been anyone. Tyler could have spies anywhere. We won't know for sure what caused this. But we know we've gotta deal with it."

Huffing, Chibs reached out his hand. "Give me yer keys."

"Keys?" Tig asked.

"Keys," Chibs repeated. "Te yer bike. I've got te go back home."

"Are you kiddin' me?" Tig sneered. "How do you expect me to get home, then?"

"Tig!" Chibs barked. "Mine was wrecked as I was nearly _killed_ teday! Give me yer fuckin' keys!"

Hesitantly and grudgingly, he gave his keys to the angry Scotsman and crossed his arms. Chibs rushed passed him, out the door to where Tig had his Harley parked. He mounted it, started it and roared out onto the road. How could Tig have been so stupid as to leave her alone, only for a couple of minutes, after something like this had occurred?! That would forever be a riddle to Chibs, and if he was to find the apartment empty—empty of that lovely, beautiful, intelligent creature he had for many nights now wondered how the hell he'd do without—he would personally wrench the man's neck. But there was an itch inside of him, and itch he so desperately wanted to get rid of, but he couldn't pinpoint it; if Tyler's men had seen her when she ran off, three weeks ago, why wait this long? They had had meetings with Tyler within those weeks, and not once had he had an ambush waiting for them. On the other hand, Pope had always been present, but Tyler couldn't possibly have known Jax would call for a meeting today… so, did that mean they'd spotted Hailey sometime else? And if so; when?


	17. Victory March

**A/N: **My lovliest, dearest, best, most fantastic, most wonderful readers; I thank you so much for your devotion to this story. Without all of you, I'd still be stuck at chapter four, or something like that. You've kept me going, kept me updating every other day, something I've _never_ done with any of my other stories. It is all because of you. And why am I telling you this? Well, mostly because I think you all should know it, but also because I know how all of you have waited, for a very long time, for a certain event. I'm going to stop right there, hoping you'll catch my drift.

Today's quote is from the wonderful, wonderful song _Hallelujah_ by **Leonard Cohen**. I want you all to listen to it, no matter what artist or what version, may it be a Russian version (if that exsists, I don't know?) or a Swedish version (that _does_ exist!), **Jeff Buckley** or **Rufus Wainwright**, or **Leonard Cohen** himself. I just want you all to listen to it and hear it's beauty.

Alright, enough from me. I love you all! Now please,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Seventeen**

"_Love is not a victory march; it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah."  
_— _Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen_

The road seemed endless. The fear of not finding her ached in him, as he drove well past the speed limit. What if he would find her dead? Bleeding on his kitchen floor, her fire hair drenched in scarlet? Devastation, anger and desperation raged through him as he pushed the bike even faster, causing him to fly along the streets of Charming.

Why, oh why, he thought, why did she have to be one of the loveliest women he'd ever met? Why did he have to feel the way he felt about her, when he knew from the start that redheaded genius would mean trouble?

**¤(SoA)¤**

She couldn't understand how this could have happened, how things like this always _did _happen, and for some reason, they always happened to her. Murphy's Law obviously liked to fuck her good. Of course Chibs would be furious; she had led the mob directly to him. She paced the kitchen nervously, her tears still fresh on her cheeks, the gun placed on the island, easy for her to reach. With every step she took, the ticking of the clock echoed in her head. When was he coming back? _Was_ he coming back? Would he throw her out for real this time? Maybe he would literally throw her out, maybe out the window she so desperately wanted out of a couple of weeks ago?

She paced, back and forth, nervously biting her nails, and when the door suddenly flung open, she flinched and gasped. Chibs marched right in, blood staining his brown leather jacket. She vaulted forwards to ask what happened, if anyone was hurt, if they had to get away, but his face, his burning eyes of fury, caused her to stop in mid motion and slowly back away. He stopped as well, confusion, horror and anger written all over him. But it all changed in two seconds, as his face distorted into rage, and he tightened his fists and raised a finger to point viciously at her.

"Wha' did ye do?" he growled lowly.

Backing straight into the kitchen counter, she stammered, "I—I did nothing! I went to visit Juice… I was wearing a hat and shades! They wouldn't have recognized me, if the—"

But he didn't listen, and strode right up to her, grabbed her chin in his hand and looked her in the eyes. "Are ye hurt?"

She was confused. At first he was furious with her, and now he wondered if the was hurt? His grip on her chin was strong and firm, but didn't hurt, and his eyes, though still burning with fury, were truly worried. "No," she breathed. "I thought you were! Wha—" But before she could finish the sentence, he had clashed his lips onto hers, roughly, passionately, and held her face in place with his hands. She was completely paralyzed, and the feel of his lips against hers was mesmerizing, so enchanting it was almost unreal. She had imagined it, sure she had, but nothing could prepare her for what it would feel like for real. He moved his lips against hers, and slowly, she awoke from her paralyzed state and managed to sneak her arms around his neck, pressing herself closer to him. Chibs diverted his hands from her face to her waist and pulled her close, holding her tightly. She almost couldn't believe it was real; she thought she had thrown every possible chance away, yet there they were, so entangled none of them knew where the first one ended and the other began. Their tongues slithered around each other—exploring each other, tasting each other—their breaths heavy on each other's lips. She had never kissed anyone like this before. Ever. So this was what that plastic felt when he kissed her? Or was this even better? Did he want her more than he wanted the plastic? She certainly wanted _him_, more than anything else. She wanted to feel him, to have him, and she forced herself closer. She felt his hands sliding down her bottom, down to her thighs, and with a swift movement, he'd lifted her up so that she sat on top of the counter. Vigorously moving their lips together, she started to unbutton his leather jacket, her trembling hands staining from the blood, and his hands tugged at the hem of her shirt. There was a violent thudding between her legs, a painful longing for him, and she couldn't help but imagining how much better he would be than any other guy she'd been with. Their lips parted only so that he could pull her shirt off, and then they found each other again, like the poles of two magnets. His hands moved from her waist through her hair and down to her front, caressing her breasts tenderly but decisively. Blushing violently, she pulled away slightly.

"We don' have te," he breathed rapidly against her lips, slowly moving his hands away, "if ye don' want te."

She shook her head and clashed her lips back against his. Of course she wanted to! He pressed himself rougher against her, pulling her to him, shoving his crotch against hers, and she moaned slightly by the ferocity of him, by the desire in her. His lips left hers only to trace her jaw and land on the hollow between her neck and shoulder, as he lifted her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Not without difficulties—a few crashes into counters and walls—he carried her into the bedroom and fell on top of her onto the bed, both too busy to notice their clumsiness. Although, the Scotsman was anything but clumsy when it came to taking her clothes off, and she felt a little bit intimidated by the fact that he must have done that many, _many _times before, but she didn't let that intimidation stop her in any way. As she lay before him, only in her panties, he just stopped and pushed himself up on his arms and looked at her, eyed her from her eyes to her navel and back. Hailey's heart was racing, fearing he might not like what he saw. "Is—is something wrong?"

Shaking his head, he bent down and kissed her softly, before letting his face hover above hers for a moment. "No." He brought a hand to her face and caressed her cheek while pressing his lips tenderly against hers and she wrapped her arms around his neck. The tender kiss lasted for only a moment or so before she wanted more. Tugging at his t-shirt, he pulled it off, revealing his muscular yet slender and proportional torso, adorned with tattoos. She saw the dollar bill on his chest, his daughter's name above his heart, the Reaper on his arm… there were scars, some small, some less small. One in his side was a clear stabbing wound, but he didn't let her get much more time to observe him before he once again clashed his lips against hers, this time with such determination, it made her groan against his lips. And she didn't mind, because she was ready for him, and seductively moved her hips against his, feeling how he was very ready for her, as well.

She was overwhelmed by the way he so swiftly, so skillfully touched her in the exact right places to make her feel like she'd never felt before, and how he easily and uninhibitedly moved her around, shifted her legs, pulled her against him, away from him, turned her around, lifted her up, pressed her down… he used force, and yet he was so gentle with her, and it was as if this was the very first time she truly had sex, because it had never felt like this with any of the other men she'd been with.

She clawed at his back when she reached her climax, and not long after, he joined her, and a few moments later, he rolled off her, breathing heavily at her side. She leaned into him, feeling his arm wrap around her. "This was inevitable, wasn't it?" she panted.

He chuckled. "Aye." He kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer, putting his other arm around her as well, fully embracing her. "I suppose it was."

She let a finger draw circles on his chest as she stared upon the ceiling. Her heart was still racing, not only because she was exhausted, but also because she was there, in his arms. She breathed his scent, and pressed herself closer to him. She felt safe, she felt guarded, as if nothing could hurt her when she was with him. The warmth from his body spread through hers, and for the first time in weeks, she was completely relaxed. She felt his hand stroking her hair, and her hand was resting on his rising and falling chest. "Do we… you know, tell?" It wasn't more than a whisper, but as she looked up, she met his rich chocolate eyes.

Raising his brows, he frowned. "Don' think we have te, love."

"Good," she mumbled. "I don't know if I'd stand the remarks."

Chibs was silent, and continued stroking her hair. After a while, he sighed deeply. "Well, this was a… pleasant diversion," he said, "but ye need te tell me wha' happened. Ye went te see Juice? Why?"

Hailey started to pull away. She was ashamed, and didn't feel like talking about it, even though she knew she had to. "Look," she started, sitting up and pulling her hair behind her ears, "I wanted to see him. I wanted to make sure he was okay."

"Ye knew he was," Chibs said, voice a bit harsh.

Sighing, she moved to the edge of the bed and grabbed a towel that hung at the foot of the bed. "I'm gonna take a shower," she muttered. "We can talk later." Wrapping the white towel around her, she left the bedroom.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Sighing again, he put his hands behind his head and stared up the ceiling. He was still too satisfied to be angry, even though he knew he should be. The taste of her was still on his lips as he licked them slowly. Reaching down on the floor, he grabbed the pack of cigarettes from his jeans, and a lighter, and let the nicotine join his inner satisfaction. He almost couldn't believe it was true, that he'd actually had the girl, and that it had been every bit as wonderful as he'd expected—if not even better. Her soft skin underneath his fingertips, her sweet breath on his, those soft, pink lips on his, the way she'd cried out his name… the way _her_ name was still there on his lips, and he mouthed it while blowing out smoke. He hadn't felt this way for a woman in a long time, and to know that she had been just as eager as him… that feeling was beyond words. He hadn't even planned on kissing her at all. He was just so relieved when finding her there, alive and well, he couldn't help himself. At first he had been angry, yes, furious even, but he had just been so shocked; she had been there… she had stayed, she had waited for him to come back, she had worried about him just as he had worried about her. Even though the situation they were in was dangerous, even though the clothes on the floor were covered with blood and brains, and even though Tyler probably knew they were keeping Hailey safe, he couldn't fall from his high horse now. Oh no, because in all this misery, in all this pain, he'd been blessed to be with such a woman as Hailey; young, clever, strong and independent. He had to be pleased with himself, nothing else would suffice.

He could hear the water from the shower as she stood there, and for a minute, he thought of joining her, but he didn't have the time, before the water stopped, and he could hear her stepping out. A minute more, and she came out from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, with her fiery hair now in a deep copper color as it hung wet over her shoulders. She walked into the bedroom, her hands grotesquely pinkish. "Wha' did ye do, love?"

For some reason, she lifted the mattress and pulled out her clothes. Why she'd put them there was a mystery. "I had to scrub away the blood," she answered, her voice weak.

Sighing deeply and clenching his jaw, Chibs rose from the bed. "Sorry 'bout tha', love."

"Yeah," she mumbled. "Now go. Clean yourself up. I'll… clean your clothes with bleach, or something…"

He chuckled. "No need fer tha'." She looked at him, and when there was at least the ghost of a smile on her lips, he could proceed into the bathroom. The air was humid, and the mirror was still foggy. He stepped into the already tempered shower and turned the water on, relieved to even skip the cold rush that always came first.

He didn't have that much blood on him—most of it was probably on his clothes. But his shoulder stung sourly, and as he inspected it briefly, he noticed a deep scratch that had burnt the skin, across the top of his cross tattoo, creating almost immediately a shiny scar tissue. Groaning, very annoyed by the injury, he turned the water off and stepped out. After rubbing a towel over his head, he wrapped it around his waist and drove his hands through his damp hair before walking out of the bathroom. Hailey was in the kitchen, putting up pots and ingredients. Chibs looked at the clock. It was eight thirty.

"I'm just gonna do something simple," she said, and as she looked up at him, she suddenly seemed shy, and quickly looked away.

Chuckling softly, he went to stand next to the stove, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watched her prepare dinner. But she seemed more and more detached and nervous as she avoided even turning her head towards him. He furrowed his brows and grabbed her arm to pull her to him. "Wha's the matter, love?"

"I—" She cut herself short as she came face to face with him, and their eyes locked.

He didn't attack her as he did last time, just touched her lips softly with his.

But she pulled away. "Chibs, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Wha'?" he huffed, raising a brow. "Ye don' think it's a good idea that we kiss, but fuck, oh, tha's different?"

"I didn't—" She huffed. "I didn't mean like that." She looked at him for a quick second before looking away again. Her cheeks reddened, but she had a childishly frustrated look over her face. "It's just—you're going to be so disappointed in me, I don't want to make it worse."

He rolled his eyes. "I think we've managed fairly well with disappointments, don' you?"

She glowered at him. "This is different."

"Wha' did ye do tha' can be so bad?" he asked. "Isn' it enough tha' ye went out even though I said ye couldn', brought with ye loads o' shite?" When he heard her deep sigh, he frowned deeply. "Tha's not enough, is it? There is more…?"

Slowly, she nodded and pulled away from him to continue chopping potatoes. "It's a long story."

"Right," he sighed. "Put the kettle on, an' let's talk about it over a cup o' tea." He turned to walk into the bedroom to get dressed, when Hailey suddenly asked, "what about dinner?" on which he answered, with a drawling tone, "put it on hiatus."

**¤(SoA)¤**

The water was boiling when he came out from the bedroom, all dressed in clean clothes. That he had been covered with blood only an hour and a half before would be hard to believe lest you'd seen it yourself. Hailey clenched her jaw as she watched him pick two cups from the cupboard and set them down on the counter.

"Wha' tea do ye want?" he asked as he opened the cupboard next to the cups.

"Citrus," she answered, barely audible. He put the teabags in the cups, and she poured the water over them and put the kettle back onto the counter before following Chibs into the living room and sitting down in the couch.

"Now," he said and looked at her. "Tell me wha' happened."

With a deep sigh, looking down into the cup in her hands, she started telling him about the message she'd gotten on one of the log ins. She told him about how she'd made sure every code contained the same message, and how she'd sum all the numbers together. Again, as she did to Juice, she concealed the three extra billions that weren't supposed to be there, but included everything else. She told him about how she'd found Bobby's phone and chosen not to tell, and how she'd made the call to Zürich, and she told him exactly what the banker had said to her. Well, maybe not _exactly_ what he'd said; she excluded the detail about her name. But she did tell him that the banker was to call within three days. Chibs listened without interrupting, and Hailey draw a deep breath and continued on telling him about her trip to the hospital, about how it went exceedingly well until she bumped into those two men and her hat fell off. She told him about the phone call she'd gotten from the woman. She told him about the car, and about how that woman had instructed her so that she wouldn't be found. That was why she'd put her clothes underneath the mattress, and she also told him, though with a thin laugh, about her necessities in the laundry basket. When she was done, she didn't dare to look at him, afraid that those dark eyes would be close to black of anger. But he only sighed heavily.

"Ye've had a long day," he said.

"Yeah," she huffed, and finally looked up, seeing how he looking into nothingness, but with a face—blank yet worried—graver than death, "we both have."

"Have ye checked the place?" he asked and looked at her. "Bugs?"

She shook her head. "There's nothing here. I've looked everywhere."

"They can be real sneaky about it," he warned her.

But Hailey rolled her eyes. "Chibs, if I checked everything from cookie cans and the fucking toilet, I think I've pretty much covered it."

He nodded. "Alrigh', alrigh'. An' they said there was no trace o' ye here?"

"It came off like that, yes," she confirmed.

He drew a long sigh, looking a slightly bit over her left shoulder, into nothingness, again. "Then it's Tyler, alrigh'."

"What happened today?" she asked cautiously.

He shook his head. "Ye don' wanna know, love."

Maybe he was right, maybe she didn't. But nonetheless, she wanted to know what would happen now, because they _had_ crossed a thresh hold, without really knowing what awaited. "What now? What are we gonna do? Are they gonna come for us? Is there going to be… I dunno, a war?"

He looked at her, his dark eyes like two abysses, "don' know, love, but it will be different."

Sighing and frowning deeply, she buried her face in her hands. "It's all my fault!"

"It is," Chibs agreed.

It did not really make her feel any better, but at least he was being honest—and at least he wasn't yelling at her. She looked up, her jaw clenched. "I just… needed to see Juice."

"An' tell 'im wha' ye just told me?" Just when she thought the man's eyes couldn't get any darker, she was proven wrong. But it wasn't only his eyes this time, but his entire countenance that fell into some sort of murderous shadow. She could see the muscles flexing in his jaw as he stared coldly at her. "Ye though it so important te tell Juice, ye risked so much, but ye didn' think about tellin' me first?"

She furrowed her brows, not knowing what to tell him. She had expected getting scolded, but she didn't expect _that_. She huffed, "you were away, anyway!"

He sneered as he shook his head and looked away. "So, instead o' waitin', or even callin' with tha' _phone_, ye decided te risk _everyone's_ life by goin' te the hospital?!"

Scoffing, she rose from the sofa. "Yeah, well, it would've worked! I would've worked just _fine _if I hadn't—" But she interrupted herself and crossed her arms over her chest and started to pace the room. "I would've worked if I hadn't let my mind slip, and bumped into those men."

"So why did ye, then?" he asked and leaned forwards to rest his elbows on his knees, while he looking up at her. "Why did ye, while doin' somethin' as stupid an' dangerous as tha', let yer mind slip, if only just fer a second?"

"I was _thinking_!" she spat and stopped to glare at him.

"Aye," he barked with a sarcastic grin as he, too, rose, "'cause ye've _clearly_ hadn' had enough time te do _tha_'!" He placed his hands on his hips and glared at her with raised brows. "Wha' were ye thinkin' about, anyways? How te backstab us next?!"

"I was thinking about _you_!" she cried furiously, but immediately regretted it. Feeling how her cheeks reddened violently, she turned away. It was all so very strange; barely an hour before, they were in bed together, but the moment she uttered anything that indicated that she had _feelings_ for him that was anything but sexual, she was suddenly embarrassed and feeling ridiculous. Especially while having an argument with the man. Huffing, she shifted awkwardly from one foot to another and back again before turning to look at him again.

His face was unreadable, and she didn't know whether or not he was still angry. But then he sighed and extended his hand. "Come here, love."

She hesitated at first, before she grabbed his hand and was pulled into an embrace, and she wrapped her arms under his and pressed her cheek against his chest. "I'm so sorry."

"Aye," he rumbled. "We all are." Putting his cheek against the top of her head, he sighed. "Ye have te tell Jax everythin' ye just told me."

She gasped and pulled away to look at him in the eye. "He'll kill me, Chibs."

He chuckled and raised a brow. "Well, wha' did ye imagine? It's not like ye've done much te earn our trust now, have ye? Actually, it's more the other way, when I think of it."

She was not amused. "So, you mean you guys really don't trust me?"

He sighed tiresomely. "We know ye're not workin' fer Tyler. Or, we think ye're not. We know ye're a student at Harvard, an'—"

"What if I lied?" She didn't want to make her doubt her—just validate that they trusted her.

He rolled his eyes. "Love, do ye really think we'd let just anyone inte our inner circles just like tha'? Juice did a check-up weeks ago; ye're clear."

She furrowed her brows. So, these guys had dug into her identity, without telling her? Then again, what did she expect? But she thought Juice would have told her about something like that. Pulling away even further, disconnecting her from him, she sighed. "What do we do now?"

He shrugged. "We regroup. They didn' find anythin', so nothin' has been proven."

"Yeah, but that woman, then?" Hailey reminded. "What about her? She knew my name, Chibs. She knew I was using _Bobby's_ phone! She knew what goddamn _apartment_ I was in!"

"Aye, but she helped ya, didn' she?"

"She did," Hailey admitted, though no less suspicious. "But how can we know she didn't have an ulterior motive? What if she's working for someone else? What if _they _want the money! Chibs, I've gotta get to Zürich as fast as possible! I don't wanna be hunted for the rest of my life!"

"How is a trip te Switzerland goin' te change tha'?" he cried, clearly tired of her constant doubts and worries. Though, she thought, she had every right to be worried, and so had he. "Ye are who ye are, love. An' no matter wha', ye'll have the money, unless ye give it all away."

"But to be able to even do that," she growled and cupped her hands like claws, "I have to get to Switzerland!" She was getting more and more irritated by every minute that passed that he didn't understand her frustration. Or maybe he did; he just didn't want to think about that right now and just take one thing at a time. Maybe that was what she had to do as well. So, lifting her hands in the air to mark an end to the discussion, she stomped off into the kitchen. He called after her, asked her what she was going to do, and she got the sudden urge to sarcastically claim she was popping out for a moment, but settled with telling him that she was going to continue making dinner. She could hear him mutter something under his breath, and she caught the words "food" and "rabid", but she just shook her head and let it slide. She vigorously worked away in the kitchen, letting the annoyance be put into the food, which resulted in something much more complicated what she first had planned. She dug through the fridge, through the cupboards, through the freezer and she was surprised to find that he had a vast variety of ingredients, things she hadn't taken any notice of before. There were frozen basil in the freezer, bought fresh, and when finding it, she had decided to do a Bolognese, the way her nana taught her to do. It was a lie to claim she was any bit Italian, when her blood was Irish through and through, but her entire family still liked to believe there was some Italian there, too, and because of it, the Italian cuisine was an important part of their family.

But doing everything as it should be done, the way her nana always did it, took some time, and it was close to eleven in the evening when it was finally done. She'd had Chibs drooling over her shoulder for half an hour, complaining about how hungry he was while he walked around, chewing on carrots, and as they sat down for supper, her anger and frustration was gone. Not the worry, though.

"This tastes heavenly, love," he groaned as he wolfed the food, but Hailey could barely eat.

She threw away almost her entire plate, and after packing the food into plastic boxes, putting one in the freezer and one in the fridge, she excused herself and went straight to bed. She was tired, she felt lost and she was worried. Any minute of sleep would do her good. But she couldn't sleep. She heard the TV at a low volume, and she could occasionally hear Chibs laugh or yawn or shift or walk around, but as the clock ticked away, Hailey simply couldn't sleep. On soft feet, she snuck into the living room, with the cover wrapped around her and sat down next to Chibs. He didn't say anything, but let her lean against him, and he put his arm around her shoulders. There was something about the smell of him that made her calm, something about the way he breathed, the way his heart beat so regularly. She felt his thumb caress her arm softly and slowly, and again, she felt that safety when being with him, as if nothing could harm her. "I was thinking of you," she said lowly. "When I walked into those men, I was thinking of you." He didn't respond, and continued stroking her arm. Hailey swallowed. "I am always thinking of you, Chibs."

With those words, he carefully pulled her up to face him. "Ye should know, I never slept with tha' woman," he said. "I couldn', because all I could think of, was you. An' tha's all I've ever thought of since." And with that, he kissed her, and she kissed back, softly and tenderly, and she let her arms sneak around his neck as she eased into him, feeling his arms lock behind her back. It was almost surreal, to feel what she felt about his man and know that he, at some level, felt the same. Maybe she had never really been in love before, and maybe—just maybe—this was how it ought to feel?


	18. Not A Soldier

**A/N: **OH MY GOD, I never thought I'd finish it on time! Actually, it's not on time.. it's 02:44 over here, which means I'm a couple of hours late. But OH WELL, it's here now! :) And thank you all for your lovely reviews, favs and alerts! I love all of you!

Song of the day, is _All These Things That I Have Done_ by** The Killers**, a fantastic song, with one of my favorite quotes of all time, which is the very quote I decided to include in today's chapter. "_I've god soul but I'm not a soldier_" is such a strong and full of heart, I smile sheepishly whenever I read/hear/quote it. Go listen to the song; it's awesome!

Now, please,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Eighteen **

"_I've got soul but I'm not a soldier."  
_— _All These Things That I Have Done, The Killers_

She woke up in the bed, in a confused daze; had yesterday been a dream, or did everything actually happen? For a moment, she thought the former. It would be far too bizarre if everything that occurred yesterday had actually happened. But as she slowly awoke from her daze, feeling a slight and peculiar soreness in her lower regions she hadn't felt in a while, and seeing how a shirt hung half way out from under the mattress, she suddenly realized that it had all been real. It had all happened. Frowning deeply, she sat up and looked around. There was something strange in the very atmosphere, something she couldn't put her finger on. It was so quiet. Had Chibs already gone, or was he still asleep? She carefully stepped out of the bed and snuck into the kitchen. Chibs stood leaned against the window frame, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked out. The floor creaked slightly as she continued walking, and he snapped his head towards her and motioned her to stand still.

"They're here again," he muttered and nodded out the window. He kept to the edge of it, to not be seen, and Hailey gasped.

"What, Tyler?!" she hurried to stand on the other side and peeked around the edge; indeed, it was the same black, shiny car that had been there yesterday. She looked around for Bobby's phone. "What if that woman calls again?"

Chibs held the phone in his hand. "I thought the same thing."

She swallowed. "How long have they been here?"

"Fer about fifteen minutes," he said and shrugged. "They're just standin' there. Won' even get out o' the car. Probably scared someone might plant a bullet inte their heads, cowards."

"You think they're waiting for us to come out?" Hailey asked quietly.

He shrugged. "Probably. But we're smarter than 'em."

Hailey hesitated. "But… the bike is in the garage." The garage, was in the back.

"Tig's bike is in the garage," he corrected. "Mine was wrecked yesterday. I'll just give Phil a call, an' he'll come pick us up by the front."

"Us?"

He raised a brow and looked at her. "Ye don' think I'll leave ye alone here fer another minute, do ye? Lord knows wha' mischief ye'll get yerself inte!"

She gave him a sarcastic smile and left to get dressed. Chibs' bloody clothes from last night had been placed somewhere else, and she noticed that the floor had been swabbed. He'd done all that while she was still asleep? She must have been completely knocked out. She pulled out the shirt from underneath the mattress and made sure there was nothing else left under there before she put on a pair of jeans and a blue flannel shirt. As she put her hair up in a bun, she fastened her eyes on the window. How could that woman have known that much details about the apartment? Had she been there before? The fire ladder wasn't visible from where the car had been, and how could the woman possibly know that Hailey would be able to stretch for it? With furrowed brows and with her hands still struggling with her hair, she walked up to the window, and carefully peeked out. There was no one there, and quite safe for her to open it. She leaned her head out, looking for a camera, but there was nothing. It was still shrouded with mystery. Sighing, she closed the window and walked towards the bathroom. Before going in, she peeked into the kitchen; Chibs was still observing the car through the window. Hailey sighed and went in to brush her teeth. Chibs had already taken out her necessities from the laundry basket, and she couldn't suppress a smile. He had placed it tidily on the side of the basin, stuck her toothbrush in the stand and placed her toilet requisites on her shelf. He was a tidy man, sometimes to the point of ridicule. She still, after weeks of living with him, couldn't quite put the two sides of him together—the tidy and literate private person and the bold and ruthless biker.

After brushing her teeth she went back to the kitchen. Chibs was now dressed in his brown leather jacket—clean and no sign of blood—and nodded at her.

"Phil should be here by now." He glanced out the window one last time before he motioned her to put her shoes on. Chibs had his gun ready, the muscles in his gloved hand flexing around the grip. "Better take it slow down the stairs," he said lowly.

Hailey nodded and laced her shoes on and put on the leather jacket Gemma had given her. Just before they left, she stopped Chibs just as he was to open the door, and she looked at him. Rising to her toes, she planted a kiss on his lips and smiled iffily.

He raised his brows. "Wha' was tha' for?"

"Just in case."

He huffed. "Don' worry, love, there won' be a _case_." He gave her a quick kiss back before they left apartment, and Chibs went down the stars first, making sure there was no one there, and then called for Hailey to follow. Phil had parked the van right outside the door, and they made a quick boarding before they blazed past the houses along the streets towards the club house. The whole place was in some sort of frenzy, and Jax said he'd spent the entire morning trying to get Juice out of the hospital.

"We can't have our guys scattered," he muttered. "We need to stay in lock down."

Chibs and Hailey both looked at each other. Chibs crossed his arms. "Well, love, I guess we'll stay here."

Hailey sighed. "I should have brought a book."

**¤(SoA)¤**

Idiots. They were all idiots. Show the Sons of Anarchy that they're messing with the wrong people, he said. And yet, they managed to screw things up by trashing their goddamn bordello—not enough to devastate them and send the message, but only enough to piss them off. Get the girl and bring her to me, he said. And yet, they lost her, to SAMCRO, no less. Get the Sons of Anarchy, he said, when they're at their weakest. And yet, all they did was to shoot a couple of bullets into their club house, without hitting anyone of consequence, once again pissing them off, and somehow—for some _fucking_ reason, when he'd specifically said _not_ to make it blow back on him!—making them suspected him for being the one behind it. He denied it, of course he did, but the Sons of Anarchy proved to be much more troublesome than he'd first expected. Fucking white trash bikers, and yet they'd caused him so much trouble already. And then, he got that call, that the girl had been spotted in Charming, that she'd been seen running into the house of a SAMCRO member. He'd always said that when you want something done, you'll have to do it yourself. Of course he could trust his guys. Marcus and Nathan were trustable to the fullest. They were his, because he'd bought them. He'd bought their military training, their FBI badges, their loyalties… their lives. And they delivered.

Although they didn't find a trace of the girl in the apartment, nor in the club house, Craig Tyler knew now that the Sons of Anarchy could not be trusted, at any level. They had her, and they played him. He should have known to order his own men, but seeing this was a rather… delicate matter of keeping his own hands clean, he decided to give the _Idiots_ one more chance. Send your best, he said. Send your best and kill Jax Teller, he said. Blow his goddamn head off, if you have to, he said. And don't fuck it up! And yet, they once again disappointed.

We sent our best, they said. We sent our most experienced, coldest and cruelest hitmen! And yet, they couldn't beat three petty white trash bikers. Oh, Craig Tyler had every right in the world to be cynical at the time. The girl was still missing—together with five billion dollars. The Japanese were on the brink of war with the Italians, and the Italians depended on the Albanians, who were chewing on Craig Tyler's back, keeping a dagger to his throat, waiting for their share of the money. Filthy, fucking atheists and Muslims… who gave them the right of demanding such money from him? He stood above them, he stood with God. One call, and he could have the entire Albanian crime syndicate put to prison for life, but that wouldn't gain him anything, more than the rage of the Italians. Then again, he could put the Italians behind bars as well… he had the information, and that would indeed grant him the trust of the Japanese. But it would lead back to him, and for all these years, always, he'd kept his hands clean.

But the Sons of Anarchy… if he could make one wish—just one wish—it would be to see the Sons of Anarchy drown in their own lies, their own despair and their own shit they were piling up so high, soon enough, a tiny little breeze would make it crash down on them. How could they, a small, fucking biker gang, fool _him_, Craig Jonathan Tyler? His name was known and feared throughout the country. He owned half of the state authority. He had cops on payroll. Judges, juries, attorneys—he even had senators and mayors on payroll! How, in the name of the Lord, could a petty, little white trash biker gang fool him?

Grinding his teeth, he swept his whole bourbon and threw the glass across the room, letting it shatter against the oak doors to his office, and flipped his cell phone open and pressed four.

**¤(SoA)¤**

She had never seen the club house this crowded before. There were people everywhere; men, women, children… the _plastics_… she narrowed her eyes viciously as she saw that woman again, that woman she'd seen with Chibs all those weeks ago. It still burned in her, the jealousy, the resentment. But he told her he never slept with her. He told her he couldn't, so she had to believe him. Maybe he wasn't being honest, maybe he was lying, but Hailey couldn't think like that. She had to believe that if he told her so, it was the truth. The woman noticed her glares, and glared back. Maybe she was still trying to spell the word _conversation_? A smug smile spread across Hailey's face as she thought about the comment she'd made that time. It was clever, she thought so. A bit unnecessary, sure, but clever nonetheless.

At least she didn't have to worry about her hitting on Chibs anytime soon; he was far too stressed out to be acceptable for that shit. For the entire day and evening, he had barely gone ten feet away from Hailey, apart from when they'd had their meeting in the Chapel. He had barely had the time to go and take a leak. Hailey herself found it hard to be allowed to go to the toilet. She had been able to sneak off without him knowing it, and it was quite nice to be alone for a couple of minutes. She had stood by the basin, looking into her wet face as she had dashed some water over it. That was when she'd seen the small box of pills on top of the tissue box. On top of it, it said, _For Emergencies and Forgetful Minds_, and as she opened it, she found three pill charts of morning-after pills. She had rolled her eyes at it, but when understanding the function it filled, she admitted it was a good idea, and swallowed one herself, though not without a bit of shame. Not that she'd have to take a pill, but because she felt irresponsible for not using protection, for various reasons. She had lingered at the toilet for a while, to clear her head about things—and to stay away from the plastics—and it was fair to say that Chibs almost gave her a scolding for disappearing like that for almost an hour without telling him. She just rolled her eyes at him. And if he wasn't keeping a close eye on Hailey, he was on the phone, trying to convince the doctors of Juice's removal from the hospital back to the club house. They had their arguments, that they could bring all the things that needed to be brought; they had the required means of transportation—an ambulance, as it turned out. He also said that Dr. Knowles-Teller would be able to take care of him. But the doctors refused, so Chibs kept arguing. Meanwhile, as Hailey had no books to occupy herself with, both Tig and Chuck made regular stop-bys to just talk. Towards the evening, though, Chuck was busy making dinner for the lot, and the poor thing had to rush about the small kitchen himself to make dinner for such a large group of people. Hailey would have helped him, if not Tig had occupied her. She didn't mind, though. She really liked Tig. There was something about the man that made her feel accepted and just loved. The man himself was practically mad. He had these so very strange views of the world—brilliant at times, no point in denying that, but strange—and he said the funniest things that made Hailey wrinkle her nose in laughter. But he was warm at heart, and once he'd taken one too many drinks, he kept talking about his deceased daughter, Dawn, and how much Hailey was alike her in so many ways. The conversation ended abruptly as he broke down in tears and let his head drop against his chest for a while, only to groan loudly after a minute or two, and straighten and shake his head, as if to shake it all off. Once he did so, a woman in the far end of the room caught his eyes, and he left with a predatory smile.

Hailey rolled her eyes. And it was just as Chibs had ended another call to the hospital, too, and sat down where Tig had just been.

He seemed annoyed. "Bloody idiots," he muttered.

"They won't let you guys go and get him?"

"Nope."

Hailey sighed. "You think he's in any danger at the hospital?"

He looked at her, his dark eyes holding both anger and fear, and before he answered, he let his hand clasp over hers. "I don' know, love. But Tyler's got people everywhere."

"So this is your solution?" Hailey gestured to all of the room. "To keep people here until it's all over? Like some sort of fortress?"

He chuckled. "No, only fer tenight."

She didn't smile. "What about tomorrow then? And the day after that? And the day after that? I don't believe you'll succeed in getting Tyler to stop tonight. So, what then?"

Chibs sighed, turned his whole body towards her, and clasped his other hand over hers as well. "We will keep people here tenight," he said, "an' tell 'em all wha' te do tomorro'. An' the day after tha', an' the day after tha'. Don' worry, love."

"But I _do _worry!" she cried. "It's all my fault! You said so yourself!"

"Aye," he said, "an' Tig's, fer leavin' ye alone. An' mine, fer not bein' there… an' _Juice's_, fer bein' shot in the first place!"

"That wasn't his fault," she muttered.

Chibs huffed. "The lad's so clumsy, he should've known he'd be hit if he jumped forth like tha'."

She sighed and plucked her teeth with the nails of the hand that wasn't clasped by Chibs' hands. "Did you… did you tell Jax?"

"Aye," Chibs said.

"Wha—what did he say?" She stared at him, wide-eyed.

He shook his head. "Ye're fine. He's not even surprised ye did it." Then he laughed. "Told me te keep ye on a leash."

She grinned sarcastically. "How very kind of him."

"Aye, it was," Chibs said. "He could've been angry with ye, but he wasn'. Ye should be thankful fer tha'."

She sighed. "I am." She placed her hand on top of his and looked that their entangled hands for a moment. It didn't feel strange, at all. And maybe that was the strangest of it all. It was as if they were supposed to be entangled, maybe not as if they had been molded to fit together, but more as if they'd been weathered by wind and water to fit one another. But the more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded. Surely, she wouldn't tell him that. She inhaled to completely change topic, "Chibs, you know how to fight, right? I mean, Juice mentioned you were a fighter, back in the days?"

He scoffed. "Yeah, why?"

She looked at him. "Can you teach me?"

He furrowed his brows. "Teach ye wha'?"

"To fight?"

He barked a laugh. "You? Ye want me te teach _you_ te fight?"

"Don't laugh!" she said. "I'm serious!" She huffed. "Look, what if someone breaks into the apartment again, and I'm closest to the door. What if I can't defend myself? Don't really think anyone would faint from a bitch slap. Look, just… teach me a couple of moves, and it's all good. Please?"

He laughed and shook his head. "Ye're crazy, ye know tha'? But sure, I'll teach ye some moves. Tomorro'."

She smiled and nodded. "Thanks."

Not long after, dinner was served. It was some stew with mashed potatoes, and Hailey was really very impressed of how well Chuck had managed with it all. After dinner, Jax demanded everybody's attention. He told them about what had happened, about how their club house had suffered from several offences lately, and how none of them should walk around alone. He ensured them that the people that were after them would go for the members first, but that no one was quite safe. Hailey was astonished by the process of it all, as if such things had happened more than once before. People were quiet, nodded and seemed rather calm. When they'd all understood what was going on, there was a party. Hailey, still feeling guilty about it all, didn't really feel like partying, and asked Chibs if there was anywhere she could go. He said they were going to stay in his room, and at first she was fairly surprised he even had his own room, but it turned out they all had. Well, Chibs, Tig and Bobby had, since they were often the ones to open and close the shop in late evenings and early mornings, and that Jax used to share room with Opie, but when Opie got and Old Lady, he seldom needed the room. So, in reality, it wasn't all that strange that he had his own room. And it was a rather small room, too. There was a bed, a bookshelf, a drawer, and old TV and the door to a very cramped little bathroom. But, as expected of Chibs, it was very tidy and inviting. Biting her lip while looking at the one bed, she hesitantly asked, "isn't that a bit small?"

He chuckled and leaned to move his lips to her ear. "We'll have te lie close, won't we?"

Smiling, she turned to him and brought her hands to fiddle with the collar of his leather jacket. "I suppose," she purred.

He pushed a bit further into the room by taking a step inside himself, and he closed the door firmly behind him as he turned the lock. "Ye're makin' me crazy, lass," he concluded, and she giggled and reached up to kiss him. Stumbling, they made it to the small bed, and even though the ferocity wasn't the same as the day before, the passion was, and now, they even took the time to pause now and then, just to look at each other for a moment, smiling, laughing, just forgetting about the incredibly insane situation they were in. The clothes remained on as they ended up simply holding each other, Chibs' face buried in her red hair as she looked up the tobacco stained ceiling.

"How much have you smoked in this room?" she asked and raised a brow.

"Don' know," he answered. "See, we fit perfectly in here!"

"It reminds me," she said, hesitating a bit, tasting the words, before she continued, "did you ever sleep in the bed last night? I said it was okay."

He chuckled. "Aye, but ye fell asleep, sprawlin' across tha' damn thing, I had no chance of fittin'. No, another night at the couch didn' bother me."

"Oh." She smiled faintly at the scene, and then stroked his arm he had rested around her waist. "Well, I promise not to sprawl across this one."

"Good," he chuckled.

"You should go," she then huffed softly. "They guys will wonder where you're at, and they'll start suspecting things…"

"I don' give a shite," he murmured into her hair and sought out the skin of her neck to press his lips against it. "I'd rather be here with you, love. Can' stand the crowd." She angled her head to give him more skin, and he accepted it happily as he moved his hand from her waist, across her chest, to her neck and throat. Gripping her gently around her throat, he angled her head the way he wanted, and kissed the tender skin right below her earlobe and continued along her jaw until he met her lips. She still found the feel of his lips so thrilling, it was almost unreal. People didn't kiss like that. They just didn't. Not in reality. But he did, and she didn't care he was almost double her age, and she didn't care he'd probably kissed dozens and dozens of girls just as he kissed her now. She didn't care, because she had decided to not dwell in things like that and just enjoy the present. At least she hoped she'd connected with the Scotsman in ways those damn Crow Eaters never did; intellectually. She was fairly sure none of those plastic bitches had discussed Oscar Wilde with him over a cup of Earl Grey tea, and she was convinced none of them had played the quotation game with him. She had. More than once, too. She had even listened to him complain about the idiocy and illiteracy he was surrounded with, things he couldn't complain about to anyone else, because no one would understand it. He'd even said so himself, so yes, she believed she had connected to him in many other ways—deeper ways—than any other woman. Well, he couldn't speak for Fiona, but at least any other woman in America. And the way he so tenderly kissed her, without any inclination of wanting to rip her clothes off just to get it all done, sort of proved her point. They were weathered, by wind and water, to fit one another.

**¤(SoA)¤**

It was the third week she had been staring at her fucking phone every two minutes from the minute woke up to when she got to bed, just to see if she had any missed calls from an unknown number, but as always, no one had called. Had she been taken again? Was she dead? No… no, that couldn't be. She wasn't dead. Hailey wouldn't die. She was far too smart for that. Maggie missed some big punch line on _The Big Bang Theory_, and she once again stared at the phone, just waiting for it to light up. But it didn't. She focused on the show for a couple of minutes, and then glanced over the phone on the table. Nothing had happened. Back to the show. Howard was awkward to Penny again, and the audience laughed, but not Maggie. Instead, she looked at the phone, but it was as dark as ever. Back on the show, Sheldon gave Leonard a complicated lecture on something that wasn't as complicated, but again, Maggie missed the punch line, because she had suddenly gotten the feeling her phone was to light up, so she stared at it, with a bit of extra awareness. But there was nothing. When realizing she had been wrong, she groaned and turned the TV off, even before the show had ended. It went black in the middle of a big laugh, where Penny seemed both lost and disgusted at the same time, and her figure remained for half a second in the dark screen of the old TV before it faded, and after that tickling noise of the TV cooling down had silenced, Maggie looked at the phone again. She grinded her teeth. She had promised herself not to meddle with this shit anymore; she'd done enough harm as it was. But Hailey had been strangely silent for a long while, and she didn't know how to handle it. There had been no call from her, telling her the codes she sent had come to the right place, there had been no call to scold her for sending them to the wrong place… there was nothing. She had tried to retrieve the file Hailey asked her to delete on her computer, but when she tried to open it up, she had to type in a password. That was not Maggie's field of expertise. But she was dead sure that file contained those codes. So, she had done the good thing, and truly deleted it, every trace of it. She had deleted it as sent file from her email as well. For all anybody knew, that file never existed. But Maggie was worried, and she wasn't the only one. Professors had asked her where Hailey was, if she had dropped out, if she was coming back and if anything had happened. They asked about her parents, and Maggie had no idea if they'd had any contact with them, but if they'd had, her parents didn't know anything, either. Around the school, rumors started to fly, rumors that claimed that Hailey had something to do with the death of Mr. Reins. How far that was from the truth, Maggie didn't know. That Mr. Reins murder and Hailey's disappearance were most likely connected, she could be sure about, but at what level, she didn't know. Some students said that Hailey had slept with Mr. Reins and that his wife had caught them and killed them both, but Maggie shook her head at stories like those. Some students even claimed Hailey was the one to murder Mr. Reins, for lowering her grade. In some versions, she killed him because she was mentally unstable and because he was feeling her up. Those rumors were even worse! Maggie couldn't help but to smile a little at the thought, that if anyone knew that the reason Hailey was gone was like taken straight out of a Bond movie, they would forever treat her as a goddess. But, feeling how her restless fingers itched by worry, she reached for the phone and looked at it for a long while before she dialed the number and set the phone to her ear. There was a signal. Then another. Two more, before a friendly voice answered, asking what she could do to help.

Maggie took a deep breath. "I want to report a disappearance."


	19. The Wicked

**A/N: **Thank you all for your lovely reviews! :) I love you all!

Alright, so, this chapter is rather special, and as a special chapter, I have again two songs for you. The first one is—again—_The Blues_ by **Switchfoot**. An amazing song from an amazing band, and if you haven't heard it; go listen to it!

But I also have a song for you, meant for the last few passages of the chapters, called _Signal To Noise_ by **Peter Gabriel**. Again, I urge you all to listen to this when you're closing in to the end of the chapter, to get into the right mood—and, perhaps, to get a peek into my head, as well. I believe you will know when the song will be fitting.

I also want to share a quote from another song, from _The Boxer_ by **Simon and Garfunkel**. This is not a song you need to listen to; I just wanted to share the quote (even though it is a good song!)

_"In the clearing stands a boxer, _  
_and a fighter by his trade _  
_and he carries the reminders _  
_of every glove that layed him down_  
_or cut him till he cried out _  
_in his anger and his shame, _  
_'I am leaving, I am leaving', _

_but the fighter still remains."_

Now,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Nineteen**

"_Does justice never find you? Do the wicked never lose?"  
_— _The Blues, Switchfoot_

Chibs said the people would be out of the club house the next day, and at first, Hailey didn't believe him. As it turned out, he was right. And he made sure she knew that, because since she had been so bored throughout the evening, she had been a pain in the butt to anyone capable of a discussion, which, in this case, had been Chibs.

But even though all the people left the next day, the place was still in chaos. They were waiting for retaliation, they said. Jax had confronted her about the message, about the phone call from the mysterious woman and about her conversation with the Swiss banker. She told him everything she'd told Chibs, and left Jax pondering over something.

Later that day, a car rolled into the compound, a car that unnerved the Sons. A black man stepped out, wearing aviators and a casual jacket. But he had a serious face as he walked towards the garage. Hailey studied him from the window, her arms crossed. Was this one of Pope's men?

"You should go."

Hailey gave a squeak of surprise as she flung around and saw Chuck standing there with a worried face. "Good God, Chucky, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Sorry," he frowned. "But you should go."

"I thought everybody knew I was here now," she muttered.

Chuck shook his head and raised his brows as he, too, looked out the window. The black man was talking to Jax, both of them looking extremely tense. "That's the Sheriff."

Hailey gasped. "Is he on Tyler's payroll?"

"Don't know," Chuck admitted. "Unlikely. Roosevelt doesn't like white, angry men like Tyler. I think he's a hard nut to crack."

"Then what is he doing here?"

"Don't know." The black man motioned towards the club house. "Maybe he has news or more questions about the shooting."

Hailey nodded, but remained by the window. She was fairly concealed by the curtain, anyways. But the Sheriff looked over at the club house again, and for a brief moment, their eyes connected. Though, he didn't seem to take much notice of her as he turned his head back to Jax. Hailey, however, was frozen. But after a moment's thought, she figured that if someone ought to see her, maybe it was him?

**¤(SoA)¤**

Chibs listened carefully while Jax was talking to Roosevelt. They were speaking lowly, but Chibs managed to hear most of it anyways. He had questions about the shooting, saying two bodies had been found just outside of Dolan Industries off of Route 23. Two members of The Righteous, he said, and asked about the Sons' whereabouts during the time of the killings. Jackson made excuses, good enough to make Roosevelt doubt, but Chibs suspected they weren't good enough to convince him of their innocence.

"Heard you had a… gathering, here last night," Roosevelt said.

Jax admitted it. "Yeah. We needed to tell people associated with us that after the drive-by, no one's safe. We just wanted to make sure they do what they can to stay protected."

"And how did it go?"

Chibs glanced over while polishing the hood of a fixed car, as discreetly as he could.

"Oh, it went well," Jax huffed. "People know the drill. This isn't the first time, ya know."

"Yeah," Roosevelt drawled darkly. He was looking towards the club house. "I know."

"Was there anything else?" Jax sighed. Chibs could tell he was getting restless.

The Sheriff looked back at Jax. "No. Not right now."

"Havin' the day off?" Jax asked after eyeing the Sheriff.

Roosevelt nodded. "Yeah, I'm… going to see Rita's parents. We've still got some things to look over."

Jax nodded, pity in his face. "Yeah, man. Good luck."

Roosevelt nodded. "Thank you." The Sheriff went back to his car, and Chibs watched him as he closed the door. He took a moment before he started the engine, and drove away.

Looking at Jax, Chibs tossed the rag and walked up to him while lighting a cigarette. "Nicely done, Jackie-boy." He huffed out smoke and leaned against the steel pillar. "Ye think Roosevelt knows about Tyler?"

"I'm fairly sure every authority does," Jax muttered, "for better or worse." He then sighed. "We'll just have to see what happens. It's not our move. So, in the meantime, let's just do what we have to."

"Aye," Chibs said, a cloud of smoke surrounding him. "I've gotte teach Hailey how te fight."

"What?" Jax chuckled and raised a brow. "Why?"

"She made a good point last night," Chibs said, "about her not knowin' how te defend herself."

"So you decided to take her under your wing, like a retired fighter eager to see his golden days repeated?" Jax smirked and crossed his arms.

Chibs raised a brow and huffed. "It ain' like _Million Dollar Baby_, Jax."

"No," Jax smirked. "It's more like _Five Billion Dollars Baby_."

Chibs rolled his eyes. "Aye, ye don' have te watch if ye don' want te," he teased. "Who knows, she might turn out te be a better student than you were."

Jax smiled sarcastically. "Real funny… get back to work, Bagpiper."

Chibs barked a laugh as Jax walked away, after which he returned to polishing the car. When he was done, Tig strolled up to him; he had just risen from bed, his eyes shining with satisfaction. Chibs rolled his eyes. "New conquest?"

"Two," Tig corrected. "The hot Russian and that pretty little blonde. What about you? Any luck last night?"

Chibs just huffed.

"What?" Tig cried and shrugged. "I thought you and Hailey shared bed? No?"

"Aye, people do tha' sometimes," Chibs pointed out while wiping his hands with a clean cloth. "Doesn' have te mean they're doin' it."

"Well, most of the times, it does," Tig pushed. When Chibs didn't answer, Tig groaned. "Come on, man! You can't tell me you're still walkin' around, drooling over that chick without doing something about it? I mean, the two of you are already naggin' like a married old couple. Just… make an honest woman out of her and be done with it!"

Chibs looked up, his eyes weary. "Tiggy, do ye know how incredibly stupid ye sound?"

"Don't tell me that thought hasn't crossed your mind," Tig smirked. "You'd be perfect together! Sipping tea in cozy little chairs, when you're an old and wrinkled and she's a hot MILF, discussing how wretched the world is and throwing complete nonsense words around you, as if you were quoting the freaking dictionary."

Chibs shrugged. "I'm not sayin' tha' the thought hasn' crossed me mind, but so has the thought o' twistin' yer neck."

"I smell a certain hostility here," Tig said.

"Aye, it's yer own stinkin' ass," Chibs boomed. "Go take a shower! Ye smell like used, ol' pussy!"

Tig huffed as he walked past Chibs, still smirking, and still with his hands on his hips, leaving Chibs to furiously wipe his hands clean from as much dirt and oil as possible. But no matter how much he scrubbed nor how fast he went, the feeling still lingered inside of him. Was Tig right? He'd only known the girl for a couple of weeks. They'd only been intimate for a day or two. The thought of marriage was too naïve a thought. Yet, once planted inside his head, it seemed impossible to get rid of.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Later that afternoon, Hailey was taken to the back yard where they had set up what looked like a boxing ring. Hailey just started at it wide-eyed. "Am I going to fight in a real ring?"

Chibs chuckled. "Not yet, love." He opened a door to the left of the one they'd just walked out of, and brought out a large punching bag over his shoulder. There was a solid hook hanging down in a thick chain from the ceiling, on which he hung the bag. "Right," he said as he took his leather jacket off, and took a few swings at the bag, himself. Hailey noticed a light in his eyes—if only a brief one—as he slowly, a bit carefully, let his fists hit the worn out leather of the bag, as if just trying to recall the feel of it against his knuckles.

She had to suppress a smile as he swung his fists heavier and heavier against the bag, his hair falling into his eyes, and years suddenly disappearing from his features. Such a small little detail, she thought, and yet it could bring such memories to a man. In a matter of moments, his whole posture changed—he crunched into some sort of defensive position where he held his tightened fists at the level of his eyes, and sent them flying in patterns against the heavy bag, swiftly, skillfully. It was a joy watching him do it, and even though Hailey guessed he was a bit rusty and that his speed had been greater twenty years ago, she could still see why he would have been mesmerizing in his golden days. His tall frame might not have been the largest and heaviest, but he would certainly have been the fastest, and she suspected that his punches would be so swift and so strong, it would knock the teeth out of any six foot five brute out there.

He seemed lost in his own memories, in his own mind, where it was only him, his opponent, and perhaps, Hailey thought, a roaring crowd. But she waited. She didn't want to interrupt him. She observed the ripples in the muscles of his arm, and couldn't help but to long for when they'd be around her again. He threw one last punch before he took a deep breath, caught the swinging bag with his hands and turned his head towards Hailey, flipping some hair away from his eyes. "Alrigh'," he said. "Why don' ye try?"

Hailey chuckled hesitantly. "Okay?"

"Come on," he said and extended a hand and motioned her to come closer. "I'll show ye."

She came to a stand next to him, facing the bag. She had done some boxing with Maggie, but only for a short while. They never really got past the exercise-thing, so all they'd focus on then was to hit the bag as fast as possible. Now, this was entirely different.

Chibs grabbed one of her hands and told her to tighten it up. "Now," he said, "always make sure te cover yer head, face an' chest." He showed her how to position her arms for most protection, and she copied it. With slow movements, he demonstrated to her how to angle her arms and body as she drew the punch, telling her to use her whole body to get the required strength. "An' tha' is why," he told her, "I want ye te give me twenty push-ups."

Groaning, she dropped her shoulders. "Seriously?!"

"Aye, alrigh'," he chuckled. "Drop down an' give me fifteen, then. Go on."

Reluctantly, she emerged down onto the floor, positioned herself and started with the push-ups. Now, she wasn't the heaviest of people, and for that she was thankful, because she wasn't one of the strongest, either. She wasn't all that into sports, whatsoever, and never was. All those jocks in High School always teased her when she was younger, because of her scrawny figure. It wasn't until she was sixteen that she even got the slightest of figure. Until then, she'd always looked like a boy with red hair and pale face and protruding ears. At the moment, while doing her fifth push-up, she still felt like that scrawny little kid with the pale face, and her whole body was shaking when she finally reached fifteen, and collapsed onto the floor.

Chibs clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Ye need more strength, love."

"The only muscle I exercise," she muttered as she sat up, "is my brain, and until now, that has worked just fine."

"Aye," Chibs said with raised brows and helped her up, "an' tha' brain o' yers, no matter how exercised, is the reason ye're here."

She glared at him before raising a brow. "Are you complaining?"

He smirked. "No."

She looked around and made sure no one was there—ignoring Chibs' rolling eyes—before she reached up to kiss him, cupping his face in her hands. "You were great, weren't you?" she murmured against his lips with a smile and looked into his dark eyes. "When you fought?"

He smiled. "Aye. I was called the Flyin' Scotsman."

Hailey rolled her eyes. "How original."

He laughed and pulled away to continue instructing her. They went on for an hour, making the poor bag suffer enormously, as Chibs pounded away, showing Hailey how to do certain combos he said always worked, even though one wasn't very experienced. He let her throw a few punches against his hands, just so that he would get an idea of how she used her body, and again he reminded her to use her entire body. Swing from the shoulder, he told her, not from the elbow. And Hailey tried, she really did, but it was hard to please her trainer. In the end, they'd even gotten a small crowd. Tig, Happy and a prospect had joined them, having a beer each, laughing at her mistakes and praising her when she did something right. When Chibs decided it was enough, Hailey couldn't be happier. She was exhausted. Her hands hurt. Her arms hurt. Her whole body hurt, and once she could sit down and rest for a bit, Tig ordered the prospect to go fetch her some water, and quick, and the poor boy rushed away.

"Ya did good, kid," he said as he gave her a pat on the shoulder.

Hailey huffed. "Right. I sucked."

"No, ye didn'," Chibs said and sat down next to her. "Ye just have te work yer strength up, tha's all. Ye can get up when I do, an' join me when I do me work out."

Hailey raised a brow. "Right, and who's then gonna make coffee, put everything on the table, do the dishes from last night and water your plants?"

He looked at her and raised his brows. "Well, how do ye think I managed before you came along?"

"You know what," Hailey teased sarcastically, "I've started to wonder the same thing."

"Oh, aren't ye clever, love?" Chibs sneered.

"Well, it's pretty astonishing that you've managed so far without a woman running your home, seeing how you think of the duties as… a woman's work," Hailey smirked, cynically and darkly. "Or maybe… you wanna share something? Oh, no matter. I'll find your stash soon, anyway. High heels are difficult to hide."

Tig and Happy burst out laughing, while Chibs gave her a degrading look. It was all in good fun, though. But still, Chibs muttered as he lightened a cigarette, and had an exchange of looks with Tig.

"Well," Tig said to Hailey, still looking at Chibs, "he doesn't need a secret stash; he bears the woman in him."

Hailey gave a giggle, and looked at Chibs. "No, we're just joking. That was mean. You're very manly, I swear."

"Well, love," he said and swung his arm around her shoulders, still looking at Tig, "at least I've got brawns _an_' brains. Tha's more than ye can say about some people."

Tig gave him a sarcastic grin as he shook his head. "Right. Well, Chibby; tea, MILF and dictionaries. That's all I'll say to that."

"Again provin' yer IQ," Chibs sneered.

Hailey was lost. The comment made absolutely no sense, and was typical Tig. Happy seemed just as lost as she, and at least that was a comfort. The prospect came running towards them with two bottles of water, and handed one to Chibs and the other to Hailey.

Tig looked at him with furrowed brows and icy looks. "Where's mine?"

With a gulp, the boy ran back inside, apologizing all the way to the door.

Tig only shook his head. "Don't see that kid patched in any time soon." He then turned to look at Chibs and Hailey. "Even pumpkin here would do better than him."

Hailey smiled, proudly, and looked at Chibs. "See! If I'm good enough to the club, I must be better than doing house work, right?"

Chibs chuckled. "Aye, but bein' better than tha' kid doesn' say much; he's rubbish."

There was another storm of laughter, but Hailey didn't join them. She knew they weren't serious; they actually liked the new prospects. Chibs had told her so himself. It was just a part of their training, being trash talked like that.

They packed up, ready to head back, again in the van with Phil. They had decided to drive around the block once to make sure they weren't there waiting for them, and once they declared it safe for them to step out of the van, they cautiously headed up the stairs to the apartment. Again, Chibs went first, keeping the gun tight and steady in hand as he searched through the rooms, checked for people and bugs. When the place was cleared, he stood to look out the window. The car was gone.

"They're not here," he said, and Hailey breathed out, relieved.

"Thank God," she huffed and leaned into Chibs, as he put his arms around her. She loved the smell of him, the smokey, leathery smell of him, and she closed her eyes. Sighing, she slightly pulled away. "I'm gonna take a shower." She fiddled with his collar as she bit her lip, before gently pulling him along. He quickly got the drift, and most willingly followed her into the bathroom.

Their kisses were hungry, fiery and demanding, and even though touching each other like this was still rather new, they weren't in the least stopped by this, and let their clothes slip off rather easily. Chibs pinned her against the wall, kissing her collar bone as he opened the last button of her shirt and pulled it off. He pulled away only to grab her wrists to pin them above her head while he clashed his lips onto hers, and a sudden flashback flickered across her eyes; the plastic's unreal hair, breasts and lips, so naked in front of the Scotsman in that bathroom, where he did the exact same thing… "Wait," she breathed and turned her face away, away from his kissed. "Don't."

Chibs pulled back to look at her with brows furrowed worriedly. "Is somethin' wrong?"

"Just," she mumbled, "don't do that." She wiggled her hands out of his grip, without looking at him, and rubbed them before sighing deeply and putting the water on in the shower, letting the cold water run through before the hot emerged.

"I'm sorry," he said, his brows still furrowed. "If ye don' like it, I won' do it again."

She sighed and looked at him. "No, I'm sorry. I'm being silly."

But Chibs still seemed worried. "No, ye're not silly. Ye have te tell me when I do things ye don' like or don' feel comfortable with, ye hear tha'?"

She nodded. The water from the shower echoed metallically in the small bathroom, and she returned to Chibs' arms. "But I did like it." She kissed him with a smile, but he still wore that worried face, as if he felt guilty. She raised a brow. "What?"

He drew a breath. "How much… experience have ye had? Sexually, I mean?"

She chuckled with a frown. "What? Why do you wanna know that? You wanna know in detail, or…?"

"No," Chibs muttered and shook his head. "I'm just…" He rolled his eyes and pulled away, sitting down on the toilet and rubbing his face. "Yer over twenty years younger than me, Hailey."

"So?" She put her hands on her hip. She couldn't believe he brought that up—it was so incredibly tiresome. Hadn't she proven she honestly didn't care? Or was it too big a problem for _him_? Hardly, seeing how young some of those Crow-Eaters were. She bet that plastic wasn't that much older than herself. "You didn't have a problem with that last time?"

He huffed. "Last time? I barely remember last time; I was so high on testosterone."

"Right." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. She then shook her head and raised her hands in surrender. "You know what; just forget it. I'm not in the mood anymore, anyway." Not caring about his presence whatsoever, she started to undress. With or without him, she was having a shower.

To this, he irritably sprawled his legs out, leaning back and looking at her with furrowed brows. "We're havin' these arguments," he started, "as if we were an old married couple."

She huffed as she stepped out of her underwear and into the shower, and shut the shower curtains. The water hit her like a thick, warm summer's rain, and she bowed her head under it to drench her hair before she answered him, "and old married couple? Who told you that?"

She heard him sigh from the other side, and a few moments later, he pulled the curtains aside and stepped in behind her, putting his hands on her hip and pulling her to him. "Doesn' matter who said it."

She turned to face him, watching how the water drenched his head, the silver at his roots turning dark. "Well, whoever he was, does he know? About us, I mean?"

He chuckled. "Does it matter?" He bent down and kissed her, water from the shower mingling with their saliva, and she put her hands around his neck. No, maybe it didn't matter, after all. Maybe she was just being stupid. He was a grown man, and she was a grown woman. They made their own decisions, and if they decided to be together, then who could tell them otherwise?

Again, Chibs pinned her against the wall, their lips still connected, as he sought his hands to her thighs and lifted her up so that she could wrap her legs around his waist. As oppose to last time, it was all happening so much slower this time, with much more consideration and afterthought, and they both allowed themselves to feel, with slow yet determined movements.

Hailey felt his length move within her, and felt the tingling feeling that spread through her entire body. With her hands, she felt the muscles on his back—straining, rippling in the waterfall from the shower—and on her neck, she felt his soft lips and tickling beard as he kissed her, and she just let herself disappear in the sensation of pleasure as she cried out in delight.

She believed even he was surprised by her stamina, and as they both stood under the shower stream, panting and satisfied, Hailey smirked against his lips. "Maybe I could use sex as a weapon? They wouldn't expect it…"

"Oh no, ye don'," he murmured. "Ye're mine."

Giggling, she pulled away. "I forgot, you're a bit possessive." He smiled as they both proceeded with washing themselves, both being very childish and playing around with the foam from the shampoo.

Dinner contained of left-overs, but none of them could complain about the quality of it; it was fine meat stew Hailey had made some days earlier with white rice and boiled vegetables, and all they did was heat up the stew and cook some rice. While eating, they fell into another deep discussion, where Hailey, as a Darwinist, asked Chibs about his faith, but he claimed he wasn't a religious man; only when certain situations demanded it of him. Yet, they had a very nice discussion on the topic, and Hailey felt right at home.

When the dishes had been made, and Chibs had put the kettle on, Hailey borrowed his computer to see if Mark Pertille had sent any new message, but he hadn't. Instead, she logged into her own email, to see if she'd gotten the monthly newsletter from Harvard. She hadn't. Though, there was another new income that caught her attention. It had the title, _From A Special Friend_, and as she opened it up, all she could read was,

'_Power is a nasty business, and I regret that you have fallen to land in the middle of it. If you could only co-operate, it would have never come to this. My deepest condolences, Miss Reed._

— _C. J. Tyler'_

Hailey furrowed her brows and checked the return email. It was some random email, with stupid numbers and letters, probably created for this sole purpose. With the email, though, was an attached file; a video. Clenching her jaw and stealing a glance at Chibs, who was whistling in the kitchen while putting out cups and tea, she opened the file. After a quick download, it opened up, and she could see a room. She recognized it, with the big, oriental carpet on the floor, the white flowered walls, bookshelf in the back, packed with books, with the signed Sinatra record on one of the shelves, together with the bowling prize from -93; it was her parents' living room. Her heart raced as she barely dared to blink. There was a cut in the scene, and suddenly, two chairs appeared in the middle of the room, though the camera was unmoved. A couple of seconds later, the scene was cut again, and she drew a silent scream as two figures suddenly had been seated in the chairs, gagged and blindfolded, their hands tied behind the back of the chairs. She recognized the woman's rich, brown hair, and the man's red hair, just like Hailey's. It was her parents. She breathed raggedly as tears started to well up in her eyes. There was no sound, but she could see how they were struggling—frightened and panicked—to get out of their bonds.

There was another cut in the scene, and a giant of a man stood suddenly behind them, wearing a black mask over his face, and a brown leather apron over his clothes. And in his gloved hand, there was a silenced gun. Hailey gripped the screen of the laptop, tears falling down her face as she wished it all to be a hoax. She wanted to turn her eyes away, but she couldn't. The trembling of her mother and the panickedly struggles of her father kept her looking, kept her weeping, and kept her from uttering one single noise. They were mute, then so was she.

The masked man stood there, unmoving, for many moments, before everything happened before she had the time to react. Two shots were fired, blood splattering the oriental carpet and the white flowered walls, and even the camera, covering the scene with a terrifying, crimson veil. The scene cut again, removing the large man from the frame, and Hailey just sat there, unable to blink, unable to speak, unable to breathe, as she watched the hanging heads of her parents through the crimson veil. "No," she breathed. "No…" She grabbed the screen tighter, ripples of discoloring where she had her fingers. "No! NO! NO! _NOOO_! _NO_!"

Grasping on to whatever sanity she had left, she screamed with all her might as the picture of her murdered parents still stared her mockingly in the face through the crimson veil.


	20. Rain Down

**A/N:** Hey guys! My lovely, lovely readers! Again, didn't think I'd finish this one.. but I did! ;) Oh, and about the breakfast; I've had lots of breakfasts like that in my life, and it's absolutely awesome! :) Even the thing that I mention that aren't there that, you know—oh, you'll get it once you read it!

Right, so, I realise it's the third time I use this song (or is it the forth? No matter.) but it's just such a brilliant song, and to be honest, it was the start of this story, so it might as well be reused again and again! It's, of course, _Thistle & Weeds_ by **Mumford and Sons** that I'm talking about! Go listen to it now!

Enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Twenty**

"_The sky above us shoots to kill; rain down, rain down on me."  
_— _Thistle & Weeds, Mumford and Sons_

"_Breaking News: Yesterday morning, two people were found shot in their home in Boston, Massachusetts, one of them being the renowned former Boston attorney Mary Reed and the other one, her husband Patrick Reed. They were found in the living room, tied to chairs, and because of the state in which the bodies were found, the Boston Police Department claims there is no hesitation that this was a personal dispute and not an act of lunacy. Mary Reed has been particularly known for being active in protecting the Irish community of Boston, her most famous case being the one of Father Connors, who was falsely prosecuted for the rape of a five year old girl, no more than five years ago. The prosecution lasted for eight months before Reed finally got the Catholic priest found innocent, and two months later, the real perpetrator was found and after confessing to the crime, sentenced to twenty years in prison for child molesting. With us, on set in Boston, is our reporter Bruce Simmons; hello, Bruce!"_

"_Hello, John!" _

"_So tell me; how is the mood of Boston today?"_

"_Well, John, as I am standing here in the streets of Charlestown, I can tell you that there's a heavy feeling over the people walking by; the Irish community has certainly lost a much beloved member."_

"_Yes, Mary Reed was very celebrated for the victory in court in the case of Father Connors, but have there been speculations that the murders may have been connected to her work?"_

"_As for now, the police department is reluctant to give out any new information, but there will be a homicide investigation, and the probability of the crime being related to the work of Mary Reed will certainly play a crucial part of finding the perpetrator."_

"_Now, Mary Reed resigned from her profession, just as her reputation was at its peak, and began working at a daycare center. Have there been speculations about whether that could have played part in the murder?"_

"_The police are ruling nothing out, and this will most certainly be a crime that will shake the very foundation of the Irish community in Boston, and all of America." _

"_Alright, thank you very much, Bruce. Next up: Grand Finale for the Olympics in London, England! The anticipation is rising as we've been promised—"_

Chibs turned the TV off as Hailey rose and left to close herself inside the bedroom. He didn't follow her, but sat slumped in the sofa, chewing on the insides of his cheek. It had been three days since that girl last had spoken one word, and he felt so helpless. There was nothing he could do, nothing to comfort her whatsoever. After watching that video, she had fallen into some sort of mental daze, where she didn't utter a singel word afterwards. He had tried, at the best of his abilities, to comfort her, be there for her, make sure she ate, she slept, and still, there was no response from her. It was as if the outer world didn't exist.

Chibs had seen it before, when a bombing in Belfast took away the family of a boy in his class. The boy didn't speak for a year, and dropped out of school. Chibs sincerely hoped it wouldn't be like that for Hailey. He, himself, had watched the video, analyzed it, tried to figure out if the man with the gun was anyone he would be able to find, but it was all very cleverly done. It could have been anyone committing that crime. But he had to find out who did it. He simply couldn't get it out of his head; when he'd heard her icy cry, the scream that tore through skin and flesh, froze the blood and shattered bones. The neighbors might have thought he was murdering her. She had fallen to the floor, and he had rushed to her side, calling her name, but she was gone. She was unreachable as she kept screaming and crying. He had pulled her to his chest, rocked her while hushing her, and her whole body had been trembling so violently, one could have thought she was freezing to death. It had taken her almost half an hour to stop crying loudly, wailing, and even after that, she kept sobbing. He'd carried her into the bed—she was completely immobile—and he'd laid her down, and she hadn't looked at him. He wasn't even sure she'd looked at anything, because her eyes were dim, as if they were somewhere else.

He'd sat with her until she had fallen asleep, well past three in the morning, and then he had gone back into the living room to see what had caused her seizure. As he watched the film, he felt his whole body tense up, his hands curling into fists and his jaw set firm. It was a monstrous film, and it proved that Craig Tyler was a psychopath. Chibs had then called Jax, not caring about what time it was. Jax had at first been angry, but as soon as Chibs had dropped the bomb, Jax was silenced. It took him several minutes to give a response.

"How is she?" were his first words.

"She's asleep," Chibs had told him. They didn't say anything else on the matter and decided to bring it up first thing tomorrow. He had then gone back to the bedroom to lie down next to the girl, but he found that she was awake again. At first, he hesitated, waited for her to ask him what the hell he was doing, but as she didn't utter a word, he crawled under the covers and placed a comforting hand over her waist. She didn't object, and neither did she accept it. She just lay there, silent and dull. On the morning, she still didn't speak. She didn't cry. She acted normally, the only difference was that she was mute. As they had gone to the garage—again being picked up by Phil—Hailey had withdrawn with a book to Chibs' room and wasn't seen for the rest of the day. When they went home that afternoon, she still didn't talk. Bobby's phone had rung, probably the Swiss banker—the three days were up—and as Chibs had waited impatiently for her to answer it, she had barely taken any notice to it, and let it ring until it stopped. Chibs tried to get her to talk, but she didn't. They went to bed early, and the morning after, it was the exact same thing. Chibs was getting restless. Even though he knew it was just as silent as when he was living on his own, it still wasn't the same thing. There was another person there with him, and logically, another person would make some kind of noise, but she was like a shadow, or a ghost. At the garage, she had been in the boxing ring the whole day, burning herself out by the bag.

This day was the third day she didn't speak. She had cleaned the whole club house—even scrubbed the toilets—and once they got back to the apartment, she continued her cleaning frenzy, which unnerved Chibs enormously. He had his way of cleaning his home, and if it was to be cleaned, that was the way to do it. But no matter how much he tried to make her stop, without angering her too much, it seemed as if she simply didn't hear him. When the news started, she was just cleaning the kitchen floor for the third time, and now, she was closed inside the bedroom.

He sighed and rose to carefully knock on the door, and asked softly if he could come in. But he didn't have to, because she threw the door open and stood staring at him, her jaw set so firmly, her eyes so narrowed, she looked as if she could kill him.

"I want him dead," she growled, so lowly, it was almost inhumane.

Shocked, he struggled to find something to say. She pushed past him as he nodded sheepishly. "Aye."

"I wanna do it myself," she said and she grabbed one of Chibs' guns on the kitchen island.

"Whoa, lass!" he cried as he pulled the gun from her hand. "Hold yer horses!"

She glared at him. "Did you just watch your parents get their brains blown out right in front of your eyes? No? I didn't think so. Give me the fucking gun." She took a swing for it, but he held it out of her reach.

"Wha' are ye gonna do, love?" he asked. "Go on a shootin' rampage around town 'til ye find the bastard who did it?"

"I know who did it," she growled. "Tyler did. And I'm gonna kill him."

Chibs sighed and discharged the magazine from the piece and placed it back on the table. "Sure. But not tenight."

She crossed her arms and pouted as a little child and looked away.

He pulled her to him. "Listen te me, love. I know ye're angry. Hell, ye're furious, I know tha'. An' ye have every right te be. But if ye wanna take care o' tha' sly bastard, ye've gotte be just as smart as him."

She sighed deeply and leaned herself against him, and he put his arms tightly around her. For the rest of the evening, they did little to none talking. At least, she _was_ talking again, and for that, he was grateful. And he was reminded of how much he actually liked her voice. It was so sweet, so soft. Even her sarcasm was better than her silence.

Chibs made dinner that night. Shepherd's Pie, the only dish he was any good at making, and they had another early night. Even though she hadn't talked during the last two nights, Chibs had still grown used to sharing bed with her, holding her close, waking up by her side… but tonight, well, he wasn't sure if there would be any awkwardness.

"I'm sorry for my recent apathy," she mumbled as she gripped the hand he had around her waist. "I've had a lot on my mind."

"Aye," he said. "I don' blame ye." He sighed as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. "I don' blame ye, love."

Turning to face him, her eyes flickered between his, and she then reached up to kiss him. He was not late to answer. It was funny, really, that he had been around her for weeks without suffering as he had these last three days. He hadn't been able to really hold her, let alone kiss her, and now, when his lips was firmly set on hers, he didn't let it go to waste, and got as much as he could—he didn't know what mood she would be in tomorrow. Pulling her towards him, ultimately beneath him, he swiftly removed the shirt she slept in, and she responded well to his initiative.

There was anger in her, he could feel that, and even though he knew it was so wrong, in so many ways, to take advantage of her situation, he couldn't deny that this was probably the best sex he'd ever had.

**¤(SoA)¤**

She woke up smelling the coffee, and she had to admit it was a fairly nice way to wake up. She needed coffee, badly. Nightmares had haunted her, and even though last night with Chibs had been rather wild and exhausting, she barely slept. The nightmares kept her awake, as they had ever since she saw that video. That horrible, crimson color stained every scene in her head, blood pouring from the ceiling down the walls, flooding the floors, covering her from head to toe… whenever she closed her eyes, she saw her parents' heads hanging limb from their shoulders, their blood rolling down the lens of the camera. Shivering, she rose from bed, dressed in a pair of jeans and the green flannel, and entered the kitchen. Chibs was making breakfast, a rather luxurious, too. She walked up to him, interrupted him while frying some eggs, and planted a kiss on his scarred cheek. "Good morning," she said and smiled weakly.

One side of his mouth twisted into half a smile, and he caressed her cheek. "Mornin', love." He clenched his jaw as he continued frying the eggs, and Hailey, stepped away, awkwardly putting her hands in her back pockets. She saw a cup of steaming hot coffee by the spot she usually sat, and she supposed the cup belonged to her. She grabbed it, feeling the heat of it in her hand, and she inhaled the smell. Oh, wonderful, wonderful smell! The first sip, though warm, was magical. It was as if her foggy mind cleared, and woke up. Chibs always made the coffee so strong, and she liked it. Slowly, she sat down, and waited for the man himself to be seated. He was doing something with plates and pots, and when he turned around, he held two plates in his hands, one for her and one for him. As he placed a plate in front of her, she raised a brow.

"Full Scottish breakfast, love," he smiled. "Figured ye needed somethin' real an' rugged after wakin' up from tha' daze."

She couldn't suppress a smile, though small. The plate was filled with baked beans in tomato sauce, bacon, real sausages, a baked tomato, something black and grainy she couldn't name, potato pancakes and a fried egg. Skeptically, she looked at Chibs. "You expect me to eat _this_?"

He barked a laugh. "Aye, this is good for ye scrawny ass! Jus' try it. Trust me, ye'll love it."

She hesitated before she took the first bite out of the sausage, and it was as far away from hotdogs one could get. But it wasn't repulsive. She carried on trying all of the things on the plate, and even though her pride was wounded, she had to admit that, though it wasn't a culinary masterpiece, it was actually rather nice. Until she came to that black, grainy thing. "So," she drawled. "Is this the haggis, or what?"

He chuckled. "No love. Can' get a decent haggis here, ye know. Tha's the black puddin'."

"Right," she said, "cooked blood. I'm sorry, but I think I'm gonna pass on that one."

"Oh, don' be like tha'," he teased.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm not a big, bad Scot like you are," she said as she pushed the black pudding away. She continued eating the rest, and had to force down the last mouthfuls, because she was so full.

Shortly after, they went back to the garage, again with Phil. When arriving at the garage, Hailey was greeted by a most wonderful sight. Juice was back. He was sort of walking slowly, his bounce and swagger gone as he approached her. But his smile was still there, though not as wide as usual; he'd heard. They hugged each other, and she could feel, that when he so gently pulled her to him, set his head against her shoulder and pressed his hands on her back, that he cared about her, that he felt her pain, and as if there was something about him tearing down the wall she'd build to protect herself, she broke down in tears, burying her face in his hoodie. He hushed her and rocked her slightly, neither speaking nor trying to cheer her up. He was just there for her. And it felt so good to just cry against his shoulder. She hadn't cried for three days, because it hadn't felt right. Not that she didn't feel comfortable enough with Chibs to cry, but because it just didn't feel right to cry, because she wanted to be strong, to be vengeful and terrifying. But with Juice, it just felt so right to let everything out. It wasn't until Chibs said that they'd better step inside, that Hailey actually looked up, her eyes red and puffy. At least, he didn't shout at Juice for hugging her, even though she could see in his face that he didn't approve. But she didn't care. He didn't own her, and Juice was her friend. Together, Juice and Hailey sat down where they would be left alone, and she told him everything. About what had happened after she'd been to see him, and about the lock-down, and about the video. She told him that she had started training, in case she'd have to defend herself, and Juice laughed at her, and she scolded him for it. She left out the detail about her and Chibs, not because she didn't trust him, but because she simply didn't feel like telling anyone yet. She suspected that Tig already knew, even though none of them had said anything, and she was almost certain Gemma knew. But Juice… there was another factor as well, and that was that she didn't know where they were. She had never seen Juice as anything but a friend, but she couldn't be sure he felt the same. She didn't want to be vain or self-centered in any way, but she didn't want to lose her friendship with him, and therefore, she simply didn't want to take the risk.

He scolded her for being so stupid as to risk so much to go and visit him, and that she should have known better. But he was somewhat impressed about how she'd handled it all, considering. She then asked him about how he was holding up, and he told her that as long as he didn't run or do things that would exhaust him, he'd be fine. The lung was still healing, and he was very sore, but he took medication for it. He was actually rather proud of the wound he had. Pulling up the shirt, he showed her the wound under the pad, and while she cringed at the sight, he gave a silly smile and said that people would be jealous at him for having such a cool bullet wound—it _did_ go right through, after all.

Hailey couldn't really agree; even though _his_ associates might find it impressive enough, hers certainly wouldn't. They then sat quiet for a while, before Juice sighed.

"I'm really sorry about your family," he said softly. "It must be horrible."

She nodded. "Yeah. I still can't believe it actually happened. I mean—" The words stuck in her throat, pressed down by the cries that wanted to escape whenever she thought of it, but she swallowed the cries and let the words carry. "I mean, it was just so unreal. That's the stuff you see in horror movies, not in real life." Juice nodded. "And the worst thing is," she continued, "that since it was all so bizarre, I don't feel like anyone will understand how it felt…"

Juice clenched his jaw and shook his head slowly. "Hailey, there may not have been many people at Harvard that would get you… but the people you're surrounded by here, they have seen some ugly shit in their lives."

"I know," she mumbled. "But _that_? Have they watched as their family get their brains blown out, in some fucking artsy composition?!"

Juice face hardened. "Tig watched his daughter die. She was set on fire, while Tig was forced to watch. He had to listen to her screams, as he was chained and couldn't get to her. Jax, Chibs and Tig all had to watch as one of our brothers, and Jax's best friend, was brutally beaten to death in jail with an iron pipe. Had he been alive today, he would have been the VP. Chibs watched his own nephew got blown to bits in a car explosion… I could do this all day, Hailey. Point is, we've all seen and done thing you can't even being to imagine. What you have been through is absolutely awful, but you really couldn't be with people that understand you better than us."

Hailey sat silent. She knew they'd all seen things that was completely out of her world, but as she thought about her reaction to the video, though very natural for being her parents and all, she suddenly felt so childish and snobby. She had spent the last three days not talking to anyone, ignoring the call from Switzerland, ignoring everyone, while she could have talked to them, shared her feelings with them. But she was too proud. She was too determined to believe that what happened to her was the worst thing that had ever happened to any human being, even though she knew very well it wasn't. Though, she still would never forget it, the hanging heads of her murdered parents, through that crimson veil… but it was all put in perspective now.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Chibs flipped his cigarette pack open and walked to sit down in the sun for a while, just as the procession of police vehicles came driving into the compound. He knitted his brows and forgot where he was going as it welled out heavily armed officers from the black van, and out of one of the other cars, Roosevelt stepped out.

Bobby, Jax and Tig all hurried outside to ask what the hell was going on. Was it a round-up? Did they have a search warrant?

"Filip Telford?" a police officer asked as he walked up to Chibs.

"Aye?" he boomed suspiciously as he furrowed his brows even tighter.

"You are under arrest on suspicion of murder." The police officer violently shoved the Scotsman face down onto the table and forced his hands behind his back. Jax, Tig and Bobby objected, but were forced to back away, as the police officer checked him and cuffed him before straightening him up. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law." He started to push him forwards. "You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning." The boys were shouting at Roosevelt to stop this and to explain why the hell they were arresting Chibs and on what grounds, and all the while, the police officer kept rambling. "If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense. Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?"

Chibs raised an eyebrow. "Ye're new, aren' ye?"

"Do you understand?" the officer repeated harshly.

Rolling his eyes, Chibs drawled, "aye."

"Having these rights in mind, do you wish to talk to us now?"

Chibs glared at the officer. A young one, not older than thirty. Curling his lips into a snarl, Chibs spat, "go fuck yerselves, aye?"

"Just take him down to the station," Roosevelt sighed.

Chibs was forced into the police car, banging his head as he was pushed inside. The inside of the police station was a rather familiar sight, sadly. He was taken directly to an interrogation room, and well inside, Roosevelt himself sat down for interrogation. "Where's me bleedin' attorney tha' lad wasted such much time o' me life te explain te me about?"

Roosevelt glared at him. "Really? You want an attorney? Previous record show you have never wanted an attorney."

Raising a brow, Chibs huffed. "Ye got me."

Roosevelt sighed and put on the recorder. "August 10th, 2012, 2:52PM. Suspect; Filip 'Chibs' Telford. Case; the murders of Damien Greene and Simon Fisher. Where were you on the 4th of August between four and five PM?"

Chibs clenched his jaw. "I was at TM, workin'."

"Can anyone confirm that?"

"Aye," Chibs said. "Ask the boys, Chucky, Gemma… they were all there."

"Do you recognize these men?" Roosevelt presented two pictures of the two skinheads that had ambushed them.

Chibs shook his head. "No."

"There were both shot in the head," Roosevelt continued. "Both were shot from the back of the head with precision, and you tell me this wasn't your work?" He displayed another two pictures, this time of the men as they were found, with holes in their head.

"No, I wasn' there."

"No? Huh, that's funny," Roosevelt said as he raised his brows, "because we found this on the scene of the crime." He held up a bag containing the remains of a bullet. "Do you know what this is?"

"It looks like a bullet."

"That's exactly what it is." Roosevelt put the bag away and sighed deeply as he knitted his fingers. "We found traces of your DNA on that bullet."

A knot was forming in the Scotsman's chest. The bullet that grazed him. It had to be. How the fuck could they find that fucker? Clenching his jaw, he started to realize that an attorney wasn't a bad idea.

"You didn't count on that, did you?" Roosevelt sounded rather pleased with himself. But then he sighed, and with slow movements, as if not to make the ones watching from the window notice, he turned the recorder off. "Look, I know you guys were involved with this. There is no point in denying it. The Righteous have been a pain in all our butts. Don't even know what the sons of bitches are doing around here. Bunch of racist Nazi fuckers." The resentment in the Sheriff's voice was clear, and took Chibs off guard a bit. "Had it been up to me, I would've dropped the charges. Said it was internal. But this landed on my table from higher powers, and I can't ignore it."

Chibs didn't say anything, but looked up at the black man.

"I have another question for you," Roosevelt suddenly said. He picked out a folder, opened it, and pulled out a picture of a girl with fiery hair, pretty face and eyes blue as forget-me-nots, and the knot in his chest tightened even further. "Ever seen this girl?"

Clenching his jaw, Chibs shook his head. "No."

"Again, that's funny," Roosevelt said and furrowed his brows, "because when I came by the garage a couple of days ago, I could have sworn I saw that girl peek out the window. You wanna look at the picture again?"

Chibs didn't reply, feeling his breathing increased. Oh, they could put him away for the rest of his life if they wanted, but they couldn't have her.

Again, Roosevelt sighed. "Chibs, do you know that these people are connected? That the two people that were shot had something in common with the disappeared girl? Do you know what they have in common?"

"No," Chibs sighed. "Why don't ye tell me?"

"You." The black man clenched his jaw, and he leaned forwards. "I know what I saw; she was there at the club house, two days after the shooting. But you know another thing? That girl's parents were murdered four days ago. They were shot in the back of their heads, much like Damien Greene and Simon Fisher."

Chibs raised a brow. "If the skinheads were killed the fourth, an' ye came by the garage two days after tha', on the sixth, an' the girl's parents got shot four days ago, an' it's the tenth teday… then you yerself can confirm I wasn' in Boston four days ago, 'cause ye saw me at TM."

"Boston?" A smirk spread across Roosevelt's lips. "I never mentioned Boston."

Chibs clenched his jaw, knowing he'd said too much. With dark eyes glaring murderously at the Sheriff, he drawled, "I want a lawyer."


	21. Keep My Hands Clean

**A/N: **Loveliest, loveliest readers; thank you SO much for all the reviews and favs and alerts and whatnot! I'm so flattered by it all! Time for the next chapter! And, I have to tell you, that I will not be able to post for a couple of days! I'm having a friend visiting me over the weekend (if she gets well in time, that is), which means I will have no time to write. Hopefully, I'll be back with a chapter on either Sunday night, or Monday night, depending on how much time I get. I just thought I'd warn you.

And while I'm at it, there will be some delays this coming week as well; I'm going to Stockholm to see **Dropkick Murphys** (YAAY!) so there will be a small delay in the middle of the week. But after that, I should be back on schedule :)

Right, so today's song is _Hurricane_ with **David Ford**! An absolutely brilliant song! First time I heard it, was actually the fall of 2011, when spending the night at Edinburgh airport, waiting for the morning plane back to Sweden, and I heard this song just when I was about to fall asleep. This particular quote was the one that stuck with me, and the words kept repeating in my head, and when I arrived at home about 24 hours later (I'd been awake for almost 40 hours) I simply couldn't go to sleep before I found out what song it was.

So, GO LISTEN TO IT! :)

Now, please,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Twenty-One**

"_God Bless America, God Save the Queen,  
__God kill my enemies and keep my hands clean;  
__it's never enough."  
_— _Hurricane, David Ford_

Rosen sighed heavily. "Chibs, you've got to give me something to work with here." He flipped through the case file again as a dark shadow veiled the attorney's face. "Did you or didn't you shoot those people?"

"Wha' do ye want me te say?" Chibs had his arms crossed over his chest, slumped down in the chair, his foot tapping restlessly on the floor, while the other foot was resting on his knee.

"The truth." Rosen looked at the Scotsman with a frown.

Chibs sighed, let his foot down, and leaned over the table, clasping his hands in front of him. "Doesn' matter wha' I say. They've got me DNA on tha' bullet. I'm fucked either way."

"Are you sure?" Rosen asked. "Are you sure they're not just saying it to get you to confess?"

Chibs huffed and leaned back again. "Then they should know better."

"Yeah, well, what if they don't?" Again, the attorney sighed. "Chibs, the only way to get you out of here, is that you tell me what really happened!"

Sighing, Chibs clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Aye, I did it. Jax an' Bobby were with me. We were ambushed, it was self-defense."

"Good, good," Rosen nodded. "We could work with that."

"Leave 'em out," Chibs demanded. "I am the one getting' caught, an' I ain' no rat."

"I know you're not," Rosen said. "But we can still work with the self-defense argument. It might lessen your sentence."

"How long do ye think ye can give me?" Chibs felt beaten. He had promised himself that the last time he was in prison, would remain the last time he was in prison.

Rosen sighed and shook his head. "A double homicide like this… it's enough to give you life. If you claim it was self-defense, we're still looking at… twenty years, at _least_."

Chibs clenched his jaw and buried his face in his hands. Why did this always happen to him? Every time he got a shot of happiness, it was destroyed by some shit that he got himself into. Every fucking time. When would he ever learn?

**¤(SoA)¤**

Hailey felt empty, lost, uncomprehending. Had Chibs been arrested? She sat quietly next to Juice as Jax, Bobby and Tig all argued loudly about what they should do. Juice seemed worried, and tapped his feet onto the floor very nervously. Happy paced the club house with his hands on his head. Phil sat quiet, as well, his head hanging low. Clay was in the far back, looking tired. The prospects kept away, keeping to the background as Jax and Bobby had turned to screaming at each other.

"I told you this shit would blow back on all of us!" Bobby shouted.

"Then what the hell did you expect me to do about it, then, huh?" Jax barked back. "Let Tyler walk all over us?!"

"You got us into this in the first place!" Bobby barked back. "Getting to bed with Pope?! That was the first mistake, Jackson! It's all about the money now, isn't it?!"

"Oh," Jax sneered aggressively, "fuck you! You don't know shit!"

"I was here long before you, kid!" Bobby spat. "Don't you tell me I don't know shit!"

"Yeah? We'll, this is _my_ club! And don't you forget it!"

"And you're driving it to the grave!"

Jax was just about to throw a punch towards Bobby, when Tig stepped in between to stop them. The three of them continued shouting, Tig now standing between two furious bulls, trying to rip each other apart.

Suddenly, Hailey had an idea, and she sprung from her seat and stared wide-eyed at the fighting trio in front of her. "I have an idea!" No one listened, and they continued fighting. Hailey drew a breath. "Would you just… _stop acting like fucking twelve-year-olds and listen to me?!_" The three men broke up their fighting to stand gawking at the girl. No, she had never raised her voice like that. In fact, she didn't like raising her voice much. Her upbringing taught her to use reason instead of mindless yelling, but this was a special case. She shifted awkwardly. Now when she _had_ their attention, what was she going to _use_ it for? She cleared her throat. "I… I may know a way to fix this."

"How?" The aggressiveness still hadn't left Jax's voice as he spoke, but Hailey could tell he was curious.

"Well, um," she nervously set her hands in her back pockets, "if I could, um, borrow a phone, I could try to fix it, and, well, preferably Bobby's, since he's got the number an—"

"How?" Jax repeated and took a step towards her, causing her to stumble backwards, again sitting down next to Juice.

"The—the banker!" she squeaked. "He said that he'd be at my service! Maybe… maybe he could help us?"

Jax hissed and clenched his jaw. "Chibs is in there on suspicion of _murder_, Hailey! What the _fuck_ is a _banker_ gonna do about that?"

Hailey lowered her eyebrows, feeling how a vague resentment spread through her body. At least, she was using her brain to try and think of something, instead of shouting and arguing like they did. "I don't know. But it's worth a try, isn't it? Anything to get him out, right?"

"Here you go, doll," Tig said as he snatched the phone Bobby just had picked up from his pockets, out of his hand, and tossed it to Hailey.

"What the fuck, Tig?!" Jax sighed aggressively as he turned to Tig with sloped shoulders and tightened fists, almost like a little kid.

Tig put his hands on his hips and gave his usual drawling face. "If you just stop being such a distrustful fuck and let her do her thing! Shit, man! She's right! Anything to get him out! _Anything_! We can't have him alone in there! Not when we're at war with someone like Tyler! Shit!"

Jax took a moment to just stare at Tig, probably trying to decide whether or not to hit the man. With a sigh, he raised his eyebrows and turned to Hailey. "Fine. Do it. Don't mention more than necessary."

Hailey nodded. "Absolutely." Giving them a halfhearted smile, she hurried away to Chibs' room, where she sat down onto the bed and flipped the phone open. She scanned through the numbers, but before she pressed call, she realized she had no idea what time it was in Switzerland. She didn't want to call at a bad time…

After a quick calculation, she realized that Zürich must be nine hours ahead of them, which meant it was just past midnight in Switzerland. Deciding that it certainly wasn't _too_ late for her to call—being a top client and all—she pressed the call button and put the phone to her ear. As the signals echoed in her ear, she had to stand up and pace the room. It took a long time until someone finally answered.

"_Pertille_."

Hailey took a deep breath. "Um," she started, "yes, this is… Amanda Hayes."

"_Miss Hayes!_" She heard rattling of paper in the background. "_I have been trying to reach you several times, but you seem to have been busy_."

"Yes," she said, "I've had some personal… stuff, to work through."

"_I see_," said the banker. "_Well, all the necessary paperwork has been gathered, and it's just for you to come over here and we'll sign some papers. Or, if you'd rather have us come to you, that'd be—_"

"Yeah, sure, whatever—hey," she brought a hand to her forehead, "you know, last time we spoke, you said that I could have anything I wanted from you guys, or something like that. Is that deal still on?"

The banker chuckled a bit nervously. "_Well, perhaps not _anything_, but_—"

"Good, 'cause I have a favor to ask." She waited for his response, but there was none.

Finally, she could hear him draw a breath. "_Well, Miss Hayes, we will certainly do our best to please you._"

Hailey nodded, though Mark Pertille wouldn't see that. "Okay, well… here's the deal; a friend of mine was arrested today. I need you to help me get him out."

There was another silence for a moment, and Hailey waited impatiently. "_What is the crime?_"

She clenched her jaw. "Murder."

She could hear the banker sigh, and then she heard another rattling of papers. "_If you would be so kind as to give me the information you have, Miss Hayes._" There was an implicit feel to his French accented words that told her he'd had this conversation before.

Hailey sighed. "I don't really know anything. All I know is that his name is Filip Telford, and he'd been arrested by the Charming Police Department for murder. Thing is, I don't know whether or not he did it! I just can't have him in prison, because he—" She cut herself short, realizing she was ranting away, something that was extremely dangerous, for all parts, and she clenched her jaw. It was too late now. The damage was already done. "Because he's the one protecting me from the people that want the money."

She heard him mumbling repeatings of what she'd said. "_And who's after you, Miss Hayes?_"

She bit her lip. It was too late to back down now; she had billions of dollars at their bank, so they wouldn't just turn their back on her—hopefully. "A man called Craig Tyler." There was a dead silence at the other end, and at first, she almost thought the line had broken. "Hello?"

"_Did you—Miss Reed, are you saying that _Craig Tyler _is chasing you?_" There was worry in Mark Pertille's voice, marked with anger, as well, mingled with the kindness and the professionalism. But it was the first time he'd lost his mask, and mentioned her real name.

"Yes," she said, not sure where to go with this. Suddenly, it was all so clear to her, and a lump formed in her chest. "He's a client at your bank, isn't he?"

"_No_." The resentment and anger stained his drawling tone, but it was a relief for her. "_No, Miss, he's not. And he will never be. Miss Hayes," _back to his professionalism,_ "we can provide top class protection for you, with life guards with military training, around-the-clock security, direct line to the authorities_—"

"Craig Tyler's got every goddamn police officer under payroll," Hailey muttered.

Finally, there was a triumphant chuckle from the other line. "_That may be the case in America, Miss Hayes, but trust me when I tell you this; he is far from welcome in most countries in Europe. Can I ask you a question, Miss Hayes?_"

Hailey furrowed her brows. "Yeah, I suppose."

"_Is it possible that your friend's arrest—whether he committed the crime or not—has something to do with Craig Tyler?_"

She raised a brow. "Um, I don't know. I mean, it _is_ possible… but as I said; I know none of the facts. Though, when I think about it, his arrest _did_ come very timely for Tyler himself. I know that they were attacked, a couple of days ago now, Chibs—I mean Filip—and his brothers, and…" She took a deep breath. "The other day, Tyler, um… he sent me a video, where he had one of his hit men, um… kill, my parents."

Another silence, and then she could hear him clear his throat. "_I am very sorry, Hailey. Deeply sorry for your loss. I will do everything in my power to clear Mr. Telford. It may take a couple of days, but I will reach out to my connections in America. In the meantime, keep close to those you trust. I will return to you soon._"

"Well, um, is this gonna cost me anything?" she asked. "I mean, 'cause I can't really, well, _reach_ the money right now, and I don't have much money on me, and—"

"_Miss Hayes, as long as you are a client of ours, our services are for free_."

Hailey nodded foolishly. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"_Don't thank me yet. Take care, Miss Hayes_."

The call ended, and she sighed out in relief. She had at least done something. Walking out of the room and into the main room, she had an audience waiting impatiently.

"Well?" Jax asked with a frown.

"He'll do everything he can," Hailey confirmed.

While Tig, Juice and even Bobby seemed relieved, Jax wasn't. "How can you be sure you can trust that guy?"

"I have billions of dollars at their bank," she said and raised a brow. "Do you have any idea how much money I accumulate for them? It's probably more money per decade that I _have_ on those accounts; I think they'd do anything in their power to keep me as their client."

"Why would they care who's entitled to the money?" Jax asked. "As long as the money _is_ there, they don't care who _owns_ it, right?"

Hailey shook her head. "Look, this bank is one of the safest banks in the world. To be honest, I trust these guys with my life. Mr. Pertille promised to do everything he could. He said it would take a couple of days, but I think he'll figure something out."

Jax sighed deeply, frustrated but somewhat defeated, and left. Tig told her she did the right thing, and Bobby praised her for at least trying. Juice was on the phone, and when he'd finished, he called her name.

"That was my cousin," he said. "The papers are here."

Hailey furrowed her brows. "Papers?"

Juice raised a brow. "The papers…? The documents? The originals you had your friend send?"

"Oh!" Hailey gasped. "They're here?! When did they come? And why did it take such a long time?!"

Juice chuckled and shrugged. "He said they came weeks ago, he just forgot about them." A horrible suspicion rose within her, and Juice seemed to understand what was going through her head, and he hurried to oppose her. "No, no, no! He wouldn't do that. And even if he did open it up, he'd take one look at it, and then understand that he would never get it. But, he wouldn't open it! Trust me! He's like… really, really forgetful!"

She sighed. "Okay. Well, I want you to go and get it for me. Can you do that? And I think it's best if I stay here for the night. Anyone agree?"

Bobby nodded. "You're right, sweetheart. We can all stay over. That'll be best."

A smirk spread across Tig's lips. "We can have a slumber-party! With pillow fights and all!"

While Bobby just shook his head, Hailey chuckled. "You do that."

Juice nodded. "Yeah, that's probably wise. Look, I'll go right away."

Happy, who'd sat quiet in a corner for a while, jumped up. "I'll come with you, bro."

As the two of them left, Hailey turned to Tig. "Can you be my trainer while Chibs is gone?"

"Sure thing, doll," he smiled.

She nodded, pleased with herself. She would get Chibs out. She would get back on Tyler. She would help these guys that had helped her so much. She would do it. She would.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Chibs had almost forgotten about how dull it used to be in custody. Even though it wasn't far too long ago he'd been to jail, he'd been free from time in custody. The small, fucking cells, the uncomfortable bed, the shit TV… and no books.

They had talked to Roosevelt again, played the self-defense card, but Roosevelt had been like a rock, not buying any of their bullshit. Not that it _was_ bullshit—it was true, at some level. But Roosevelt had seemed more interested in the girl, anyways, and pressed him on that point, almost accusing him of kidnapping. Even though Chibs had wanted to retort on that, he'd bit his tongue, knowing he had to stick to his statement on that; he had never seen the girl, and didn't know who the girl was. Boston was just a wild guess—he'd been watching the news. Roosevelt, though, did not believe him.

His supper that evening was torture compared to the food Hailey used to make him. He missed her; her laugh, her voice, her eyes… even her sarcastic remarks. He missed the feel of her skin, her lips against his. He missed the smell of her hair, the smell of _her_. It pained him that he might go away for a long time for this, and wouldn't see her again, and if he missed her this much after only a couple of hours, how much wouldn't he miss her after twenty years? If she would get out of this mess alive, she'd move on, finish her studies, go to Rome. She was filthy rich now; she could do anything she wanted. She wouldn't wait for him for twenty years. He wouldn't want her to, anyways. In twenty years, she could have a fancy education, a fancy job, a nice looking Italian husband—that was almost a self-fulfilled prophecy, judging by her taste in food—and beautiful children running around on the white beaches of the Mediterranean, and she would have forgotten all about the old biker she once had this _thing_ with.

He was bitterly picturing that future Italian husband in his head, and the more he thought about it, the more he hated the imaginary man. How dared he step into the life that Chibs could have had? Whoa, old man, he thought to himself. Better get rid of thoughts like that before it's too late? But was it already too late? He didn't have much of a choice now, and that only made him want that future even more. He wasn't _that_ old! Hell, he was still in his prime! Hailey was a lovely girl; smart, sexy… what more could he ask for? _Make an honest woman out of her and be done with it_, as Tig so graciously had put it. He had to admit, that when he now was facing at least twenty years in prison, knowing he could never have that future with her, even if he wanted it or not, made him decidedly more willing to have it, just because he couldn't. It might have been a childish and somewhat obstinate argument, but it was valid by heart, and by rule. Of course he wanted what he couldn't have. Didn't all great stories contain that? Didn't all of the historical masterpieces contain a person wanting what it can't have? But of course it was natural for him to suddenly panic over such a thing, when he would be over sixty years old when he got out—if he got out, that is.

In the middle of his speculations, the lock turned, and the door opened. It was Roosevelt, wearing a tired face.

Chibs scowled at the Sheriff. "Wha' do ye want?"

After closing the door to the cell, Roosevelt grabbed the only chair in the room and sat down in front of the Scotsman. "I need the truth."

"I've told ye the truth," Chibs muttered. "Self-defense."

But Roosevelt shook his head. "Not about that; about the girl."

Chibs clenched his jaw and fastened his eyes on some stupid, Spanish soap-opera on the TV, but Roosevelt turned it off, causing the Scotsman to bark that he was actually watching that.

"Does the name Craig Tyler say anything to you?"

Chibs fell silent and stared surprisedly at the Sheriff. "Depends. Why?"

"Well, we've got orders, from our head department, that he is to be informed if we locate the girl." Maybe the Sheriff noticed he'd caught the Scotsman's attention, maybe not, but he leaned in closer, his voice low but intense. "Now, I ain't stupid. I heard that name plenty of times when I worked undercover in Oakland. He's taken an interest in this girl, and he's hunting her. But you've got her… I wanna know what's going on."

Chibs chewed on the insides of his cheek. He couldn't say anything without the club's approval. That was law. He wasn't a rat. Shaking his head, he sighed. "I'm the wrong man te ask fer information."

Roosevelt, though, hadn't lost his intensity. "You're protecting her, aren't you? Or, well, your version of protection. The men that you killed, the members of The Righteous, have been frequently seen together with one of Tyler's closest. They're working for him. And they wanted to kill you, which means, Tyler wants you dead. That's because you have the girl, right?"

Chibs had to give the man credit; he wasn't stupid. But he shook his head. "Ye won' get anythin' from me."

Roosevelt was losing his cool. "Don't you get it?! I wanna help! I wanna stop that motherfucker just as you do!"

"Wha' do ye get out of it?" Chibs asked and narrowed his eyes.

The Sheriff clenched his jaw. "That man has got half my force on payroll, doing his dirty work. All to keep his own hands clean. He was the one pushing the case against you. Two hours after we get instructions that there may be a girl from Boston missing in California, probably kidnapped or worse, we get a call from our head department giving us directions that Tyler is to be informed if we locate her. Do you know that this means?"

Chibs just stared at the man. The words were itching in his mouth, wanting to come out, but he kept his jaw set firmly. He wasn't a rat.

Finally, Roosevelt nodded, defeated. "Alright, I get it. You can't talk. I respect that. Guess I'll have to talk to Jax, then. See if I can get something more from him." He rose, putting the chair back from where he took it, and just before he left the cell, he turned to Chibs once more. "You know, we're working towards a common goal here. You'd better start considering what to do about the girl if Tyler's gonna put you all behind bars, one after one, 'cause trust me; you won't be the last he frames like this."

As the lock turned again, and Chibs was left to consider all information Roosevelt had given him, he felt more stressed than ever. If the Sheriff was right, if Tyler was trying to get them all into jail—which wasn't unlikely—there'd have to be plans made for Hailey. Well, she was clever and independent enough to make plans for herself, but she needed someone she could trust. She needed a Son, and even though it pained him to think about it, the only one innocent enough to not be framed, was Juice.

**¤(SoA)¤**

She had spent the whole evening sketching on a plan. She didn't know if she'd be able to set it in motion, but at least it was a plan. Or, well, it was the outlines of a plan. As soon as she had finished, she was to present it to Jax. Whether he would like it or not, was an entirely different story. He might hate it for all she knew, but she had to try. The way she saw things, was that she had brought this shit upon them; if she hadn't cheated on that test and gotten those codes as redemption, she would never have put the Sons of Anarchy in this mess. Sure enough, they would still be fighting Tyler trying to invade Charming, but that would be a rather petty war compared to the one that was standing on their front porch, with one foot in the door. As she looked at her notes, she was actually pretty satisfied with herself. Sure, it was a bit risky at some points, and if things went wrong, they could go really wrong, and considering her complicated relationship to a lawman called Murphy, it would probably go very wrong. So, taking the pen and striking some points, she rewrote them, making the plan bulletproof. Though, nothing was bulletproof. Not really. But it was as close as she could get, thinking about all the possibilities of fucking things up. But it required a lot of work. And it required help.

The next morning she called for Juice, and he surely was a bit surprised over her seriousness. They went out to the back and sat down in the sun. The others were busy working, and someone said something about an attorney coming to talk to them. So they were all alone. Hailey looked at Juice with squinted eyes. "Hey, Juice, what do you know of explosives?"

Juice furrowed his brows and widened his eyes. "What?!"

Hailey shrugged. "I'm just wondering. I'm thinking about maybe blowing up the codes. You know, the originals? And have Tyler watch it."

"Why?" Juice asked. "You could just… I dunno, burn them?"

"Doesn't have the same effect," Hailey said.

"Or the same level of danger," Juice pointed out.

Hailey huffed. "Oh, don't be so prudent. You know as well as I that the bigger impression one makes, the longer it will last. Blowing the codes up in the middle of the desert, just as Tyler races there to retrieve them before they blows up, now that's what I call a show."

Juice shook his head. "You've watched way too many films."

"Still, you have to agree," she pressed on, "that it's a good idea."

He shrugged. "Maybe. If it's possible, then yeah, it'd really set the tone of this dispute. We'd show him we mean business."

"Exactly!" Hailey smiled, happy he finally got her drift.

"But that's only if," he said. "I mean, we don't have the stuff we need to make that kind of explosion, and if we _were_ to have it, I don't know if it would be worth using."

"It would be worth five billion dollars," Hailey said.

Juice huffed. "Right, as if you would give that money to us?"

"What the hell am I gonna do with _five billion dollars_?" she sighed. "Buy a trip to the moon? Come on! Have a little faith in me! Sure, I wouldn't give you guys _all_ of it, but you've saved my life."

Juice chuckled. "Yeah, well, we don't hope too much."

She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, making him sway. They both smiled. "So, you can't make it?"

He raised his brows. "Whoa, I didn't say that. I said we don't have the _stuff_ we need to make that kind of explosion. Not that I couldn't."

"So," she continued, "if I get the things you need, could you make it?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

Pulling out a piece of paper from her pocket, she gave it to Juice. "Check this out."

He opened it, and at first, he seemed confused, but after a while, that confusion turned into surprise. "You did this?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, it's just… a little something I'm working on. But this has to stay between you and me, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." He scanned his eyes over the paper again. "This is…" He shook his head. "This is brilliant. I mean, disturbing, in a way… but brilliant."

The corners of her mouth curled into a satisfied smirk. "It would shut him up, don't you think?"

Juice looked at her, both intimidation and admiration in his eyes, and he shook his head with a smile. "What goes on in that head of yours? Really?"

She raised a brow, her smirk still lingering on her lips. "Well, you know what they say; don't get mad—get even."


	22. A Brush With the Devil

**A/N: **Hello, my lovely readers! I thank you all for the lovely reviews; you're the best! Anyways, so, I've had a really nice weekend! :) And because of it, I decided to give you this chapter tonight instead of tomorrow. However, next chapter won't be posted until Thursday. As I told you in the previous author's note, I'm going to Stockholm for a concert, and won't have the time to write until Thursday. But after that, I should get back on track rather quickly!

Today's quote is, again, from **Mumford and Sons**, this wonderful, wonderful band! The song is _Whispers in the Dark_, and it's just a brilliant song, and I want you all to go and listen to it—but you already know that, right?

Now, without further ado,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

"_A brush with the devil can clear your mind and strengthen your spine."  
_— _Whispers in the Dark, Mumford and Sons_

A day had passed, and on the second day, Hailey had spent most of the time either reading through her notes or looking at the phone. But no one had called. He said it could take a couple of days… but she didn't _have_ a couple of days! Shit was getting real, the Sons were ready to wage war against Tyler, and they were trying to rally up other gangs to join them. She had seen many strange men enter and leave the club house, talking to Jax and the others, while she stayed hidden in Chibs' room. Juice had agreed on helping her with the plan, taking the drawing she'd made for the bomb she wanted him to build, and he promised he'd have it done in a week or two. Even though she thought it was a bit too long, she had to accept it, since she couldn't do it herself.

Tig did as he promised and worked with her in the ring. He might not have been as technical as Chibs, but at least he had the spirits. She had sort of gotten the hang of it now, and even though she doubted she would do any major harm, she at least felt like she _might_ be able to knock the teeth out of those plastics' faces. On the second day, after training for thirty minutes or so, she accidentally mentioned it to Tig, who just laughed at her.

"Why the resentment, doll?"

Hailey rolled her eyes. "Do I really have to explain myself?"

Tig shrugged. "Well sweetheart, I don't think _you_ of all people should feel threatened by them."

"And why not?"

"Because you're a lot smarter than they are," Tig said. "Hell, you have a real shot in this world! All they can do is suck and fuck."

Hailey snorted. Maybe he was right, but then again, he didn't know all the details. "Shut up. Let's continue."

Tig just laughed at her, and then continued to instruct her how to do things. He told her to stretch from time to time. Remember to stretch, he said, so you don't pull a muscle. Well, she knew he was checking out her ass while doing it, and that was why he wanted her to stretch. She told him off more than once, but he acted all innocent.

"Really, Tig," Hailey sighed the fifth time she caught his eyes sliding, "take a picture; it lasts longer."

"Can I?" While Tig's eyes were somewhat serious, Hailey barked a laugh and took a seat on the edge of the ring. Tig sat down next to her. "In all seriousness, darling, you're getting better."

"Thanks," she mumbled. "And thanks for helping me."

"Nah, it's no problem," he said as he leaned backwards and let his feet dangle. "I'm not as good as Chibs, though."

She chuckled. "Maybe not, but you're a lot nicer." She then looked at Tig. "So… exactly _how_ good is Chibs? At boxing, I mean?"

Tig huffed. "I'd rather not talk about it."

She smirked. "What, did he knock you out, or something?"

"Ha ha," he grinned sarcastically and cracked open a beer he'd ordered a prospect to get him.

"He did, didn't he?" she continued, still smirking.

"Look," Tig said, "in my defense; I wasn't the only one going down. He beat the shit out of all of us. Even Clay. I tell you, there's something fishy about those fucking leprechauns back on that green fucking island. But, you know, they're too poor to get guns, so I guess their fists is the only thing they've got left."

Hailey shook her head. His assumptions were drenched with jealousy. And so typical him. She raised a brow. "Leprechauns, huh? Well, good thing then that Chibs is the tallest of you guys."

He sneered at her. "Yeah, he's so great, isn't he?"

"Actually, he is," she teased.

Tig's sneer cracked up in a smirk. "Yeah, you should know all about that, right girl?"

For a moment, she furrowed her brows, before she understood what he meant by it, and when she did, she quickly looked away, her cheeks turning scarlet.

Tig huffed, pleased with himself. "I knew it. Damn, I'm good."

"You're just making assumptions," Hailey drawled, determined not to give anything away. What would they think of her? That she was easy? Because _that_, she wasn't.

"Oh, come on!" Tig laughed teasingly. "I've known Chibs for years; he wouldn't care about you as much as he does unless he's seriously bangin' ya!"

Hailey sneered, "thanks for the gracious choice of words."

"Oh, is it a sensitive topic?" Tig faked a worried face. "Were you planning on keepin' it a secret? I'm _so_ sorry!"

Hailey huffed and rolled her eyes, feeling her heart rate increase. She shouldn't be ashamed about it; they were both adults, and as such, no one could tell them who they could and couldn't be with. And yet… she wasn't ready to tell, because she didn't know yet if there _was_ anything to tell.

"What?" Tig asked and shrugged. "It's not really coming as a surprise, doll. Though, I must admit, I thought Juice would get there first. Always the race between those two…"

"What?" Hailey snapped her head at him, her cheeks burning with frustration and embarrassment. "Why would—why do you think me and _Juice_ would—I… we're friends!"

Tig shrugged. "Look doll, you might think of _him_ as a friend, but trust me when I tell you this; Juice has never had a female friend in his entire life. To him, you're not just a _friend_."

Unable to reply to that, Hailey sat silent looking into her hands on her lap. Had everything she'd done with Juice—every talk, every hug, every exchanged look—been leading to something Hailey wasn't quite able to comprehend? She didn't feel that way about Juice, and never had. Sure enough, he was cute and nice and he would probably make a good and reliable partner, but he had never acquired her attention like that. She saw him as her _friend_, and only as her friend. Sighing deeply, she fiddled with her nails. "You won't tell Juice, right?" She looked up at Tig, and he seemed doubtful.

"I don't think I have to," he said and raised a brow. "Look doll, it's all pretty obvious. Chibs is like a fucking guarding dog when it comes to you." He pulled his brows tightly together and shifted as he sighed, leaning forwards to lean his elbows on his knees. "I don't really think you fully understand what we're all willing to do to keep you safe."

Swallowing, Hailey lowered her head. She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want to hear all of the sacrifices they had been forced to make because of her. She had ruined things for them, and now it was too late. She didn't need a lecture about it.

"You're one of us," he continued, his voice remarkably soft. "If Tyler wants you, he'll have to get through us first, and that's just the way it is, whether you like it or not. Why do you think we've kept you here all this time?"

She shrugged. "I'm worth a lot of money."

Tig let out a muffled groan. "You have trust issues, sweetheart. We couldn't care less about money!"

She clenched her jaw and met his pale eyes. "That's not what it sounds like when it comes to Jax."

Tig shook his head. "Jax is havin' a hard time. Don't give him shit. You don't know half of it. Yeah, sure, he hasn't been very supportive, I know. He's made some bad choices, and yeah, maybe he is tempted by that money. But when shit hits the fan, he wouldn't trade your life for it."

"If it meant saving one of you guys, he would." She sighed deeply. There were cries climbing her throat, but she wouldn't let them pass. She was stronger than that. But she couldn't deny the hurt she felt when she thought about it. Tig was lying; she wasn't one of them. She was just a burden. She was just the reason for all this mess.

"Oh, come on!" He swung an arm around her shoulder, and sighed heavily. "You know that isn't true. He would never throw you to the dogs." He then nudged her lightly with a smile. "Chibs wouldn't let him."

She chuckled briefly, knowing he was just trying to cheer her up.

"And, ya know, neither would I, nor Juice, or anyone else," Tig continued. "Gemma's embraced you like the daughter she never had, Chucky is just pissin' his pants about having another book freak around, the prospects masturbate to your picture, an—"

"Tig!" she cried, pushing him away while trying to get that image out of her head.

"What?!" Tig cried. "It's a sign of affection! They think you're hot, embrace it!"

Shaking her head with a frown, she rose. "You're disgusting."

Though she was sure he wasn't right—or, she _wished_ he wasn't—at least it helped her to get over her sudden melancholy, and they continued training. Towards the afternoon, Tig had to leave with Happy to run some errands, and Bobby stayed in the club house, making dinner with Chuck and Hailey. She had never really realized it before, but Hailey really liked Bobby. He was funny, he was friendly, and he was very concerned about her well-being. He was a very fatherlike figure in a way, and she could tell, by the way he was talking about his fellow brothers, that he saw himself as one, too.

Juice turned up for dinner, and upon meeting, Hailey was very cautious not to give any false signals to him, and he seemed rather confused, but seemed to be too hungry to even bother. He said that he had spoken to Jax, who had spoken to Rosen—the club's lawyer—and things weren't really looking up for Chibs. Twenty to life, he said, and Hailey's heart sank. It suddenly seemed very unreal that Mark Pertille would pull through and clear the Scotsman, and that night, Hailey went to bed with a heavy heart.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Had it gone a day? Two? Three, maybe? He didn't know. The days seemed to float together in some inconsistent pattern. Every now and again, Roosevelt would drag him to interrogation, pushing him about Hailey and about Tyler. Chibs kept saying that he'd never seen the girl, that he'd never heard of her, but that he'd be more than happy to shag her if he'd run into her, causing Roosevelt to blow each and every time, only to drag him back to his holding cell.

"Chibs, I'm being serious!" Roosevelt said during the interrogation he'd called for in the middle of the freaking night.

"So am I," Chibs said and shrugged. "I bet the lass's got a nice arse."

Seemingly annoyed, the Sheriff clenched his jaw and took some deep breaths. "Tyler is pushing for your trial. He claims the two you killed were part of an organization that helps sentenced criminals to get back on their feet."

Chibs snorted. "Bollocks. 'Course he'd claim tha', the bastard."

"_And_," Roosevelt continued, talking above Chibs' mutterings, "he's put a price on that girl's head. Unofficially, of course. Fifty thousand dollars for the one who finds her."

Chibs tensed. Without revealing too much of it, he casually raised his brows. "He's really got the hots fer her, then? Or maybe ye're the one in need o' money?"

"This isn't a joke, Chibs," Roosevelt growled. "I didn't become a cop just to let scumbags like Tyler walk all over me. I have a duty to the people, and that is to protect them. Not exploit them."

"Tha's touchin', really," Chibs sneered. "Still, I dunno who tha' lass is. Sorry."

Groaning in frustration, Roosevelt rose from the chair so violently, the chair tipped over. "She was at your goddamn club house! Don't take me for a fool, Telford! I know this fight with Tyler has got something to do with that girl! Just admit it, goddamn it, before anyone else gets hurt!"

Chibs clenched his jaw. There were so many things he wanted to say to the Sheriff, shove it in his face, things about Roosevelt not knowing a shit and about Hailey being so much more than just a lost girl. But he kept a straight face. Even though Roosevelt might claim he wasn't on Tyler's side, and it was very unlikely that he would ever be, Chibs couldn't be too careful.

He was taken back to his holding cell, but he didn't get much sleep for the rest of the night. Fifty grand was a lot of money, and turning a person in for that kind of money, would be all too hard. There was a knot in his chest, a knot that had been there since he was arrested, and a knot that would dissolve until he was out of that fucking place. He needed to get out of there, needed to make sure that the club would be safe, that his brothers would be safe, that Hailey would be safe… he couldn't do that behind bars. Moreover, he had no idea how long he would last alone in jail, since at the moment, there were a lot of people, loyal to Tyler, that wanted to spill his Scottish blood.

**¤(SoA)¤**

The next day, there was another meeting with Rosen, and Juice had been instructed to keep an eye on Hailey. She, on the other hand, would much rather be alone. Pertille hadn't called yet. She carried Bobby's phone with her all the time, just in case, but he hadn't called. She felt bitter, sad and scared, but most of all, she felt angry. She had been so sure he would pull through, or at least give her something to work with, but he'd let her down.

There was so much tension in her, she didn't know what to do. Whenever Juice tried to talk to her, she just cut him off, snapping at him, and he seemed somewhat hurt. She had to explain to him that she was just feeling a bit crappy at the moment. He'd accepted that, even though he wasn't thrilled about it, and left it as it was.

Hailey was pounding away on the bag, feeling how her stamina and strength had improved in these short days, but she guessed it was the anger burning in her; being kidnapped, being mistrusted, being disappointed… losing her parents, losing Chibs… it was just too much, and it needed to get out. But she had decided not to cry. No, she was stronger than that. She would use it for better things, like getting her vengeance.

She was hitting the bag so hard, she didn't hear the phone vibrate against the wood on the table. It was Juice who called for her, telling her it was ringing, and in one second, she had leaped out of the ring and sprinted to the phone to flip it open. "Hello?"

"_Miss Reed?_" It was the woman. It was the British woman!

At first, Hailey didn't know what to say. Should she hang up? Were they here? Was she calling to warn her again?

"_Miss Reed, you're out of harm_," said the woman, as if she'd read her mind.

"Who are you?" Hailey growled lowly.

"_If you_ _want the Scotsman out, meet me by the water tower_," said the woman, "_two o'clock, sharp. Come alone and bring the documents._"

The line broke, and Hailey had dropped her jaw, her heart racing. She stood looking at the phone, her chest heaving and falling rapidly. She didn't understand what had just happened. From the background—muffled and distanced—she could hear Juice call her name, and as his voice grew louder and louder, Hailey snapped out of her thoughts and stared at him. "What time is it?" Without giving a chance to answer, she looked at the phone and saw that it was half past one. Only half an hour to go, then. She looked back at Juice. "You need to do me a favor, Juice. A big one."

He frowned. "What now?"

"I need to get to the water tower in thirty minutes," she said lowly.

He tightened his brow. "What?"

Hailey rolled her eyes. "The water tower! In thirty minutes! I need to get there until then!"

"Yeah, I heard you, but why?!"

"Because I'm gonna get Chibs out of jail," she said as she headed for the door back into the club house, with Juice closely behind. Firstly, she dug out the brown envelope with the codes she'd hid in Chibs room, secondly, she grabbed the gun Chibs had given her, and then she headed for the exit. While the others had their meeting with Rosen in the Chapel, Hailey told Chuck that she and Juice were just popping into Chibs' place to grab some things, and then come right back, and Chucky swallowed the bate whole. Without further questions, Juice followed her lead, and once they were on Juice's bike, driving away from the club, Hailey kept her arms tightly around Juice's waist, pressing the envelope safely between their bodies. She had no idea what she was getting herself into, but she had a feeling she was doing the right thing, though the right thing might be reckless.

She ordered him to drive away to a good hiding place while she was waiting for this woman. Hailey herself kept hidden behind one of the massive steel pillars of the old water tower, the envelope tucked into the waistband of her jeans and her gun loaded and ready, safety off. The compound was rather remote yet in the centre of the city. Big bushes and shrubberies shielded from insight, and the lot was completely abandoned. Just as the clock struck two, a black Sudan rolled into the compound, and as the door opened, she could clearly see a high heeled shoe hit the concrete. A woman stepped out of the car, her hair rich brown and her body lean and tall. She had a powerful stance, with a body that suggested power and muscle yet elegance and femininity, dressed in a black suit and black, shiny pumps, her eyes veiled by shades. She walked a couple of steps before stopping, looking around and then raising her hands. She made it clear she didn't hold a gun. "Miss Reed?"

Taking a deep breath, clenching on to the gun tightly, she stepped out of her hiding place and walked slowly towards the tall woman, with her gun aimed forwards. "Who are you?"

The woman still had her hands in the air. He lifted her brows. "I am just going to reach into my pocket to pull out my badge. I'm Agent Maretta Chalvais from the DCRI, French intelligence agency." Slowly, the woman reached for something in her pocked, and Hailey grabbed her gun tighter. The woman, Maretta, slowly picked up a badge from the pocked at flipped it open. Hailey had to take a step closer to see what was on it, but as she got close enough, she saw the picture of the brown haired woman, and everything she'd said seemed to be just about right. However, Hailey wasn't stupid.

"How can I know you're telling me the truth?" she growled.

"Miss Reed, I am not the enemy here," Maretta Chalvais said as she put the badge back. "I have had contact with Gerster Capital in Zürich, and I got the request of clearing a man named Filip Telford. Did you make this request?"

Feeling her legs going numb—was it out of fear or relief?—she drew a ragged breath. "Yes. How did you—who _are_ you?!"

"All you need to know is that I am on your side," said Maretta calmly. "I understand this must be very confusing, Miss Reed, but the blanks will be filled shortly."

"How do you know my name?" Hailey continued. "How did you know about the fire ladder? How did you know they were coming for me? You're working for him aren't you? For Tyler?"

"Shortly, you'll be enlightened," said the Brit. "I will answer any question you have. But not now, not here."

"What do you want?"

The woman nodded at the brown envelope tucked into the waistband of Hailey's jeans. "Is that the documents?"

Hailey swallowed, flicking her eyes between the woman and the envelope at her belly. "Maybe, why?"

The woman sighed. "I offer you a simple trade; I clear this Scotsman of all charges, and you give me the documents in return."

Hailey was trembling. She didn't know who this woman really was, if she worked for Tyler or if she indeed was an agent of the French intelligence services. Hailey had to make a choice; risk giving the documents to Tyler, granting him over eight billion dollars and getting Chibs out of prison, or keep the codes, and the money, and put Chibs away for twenty years. Even though the choice shouldn't be hard to make, she still doubted herself. Did she care for him enough to let eight billion dollars go? Did she _love_ him enough? Could she risk it, without knowing how he felt about her? Greed was a nasty thing, she knew that, and yet, she couldn't help but to feel how greed slowly grabbed hold of her. Could she even trust this woman to keep her word? What reassurance did Hailey have of Chibs' release once the documents were handed over, _if _they were handed over? Questions, doubt, fear and self-loathing roared inside of her, tearing at her insides, gripping her chest, clawing at her throat, and all she could do was to think about the money. Struggling with herself—with her greed and her feelings—she clenched her jaw. "You let him go first, and then you can have the documents."

The woman nodded. "Fair enough. But I warn you, Miss Reed; a deal is a deal. If you break it, there will be terrible consequences."

Swallowing, Hailey nodded, afraid she'd gotten herself in too deep in this shit. Maybe this wasn't the right thing to do; maybe this was just a reckless thing to do.

Again, the woman said that she was just going to reach for her phone, and Hailey let her, though keeping a firm grip of her glock. Chalvais picked up a phone and dialed a number and then put it to her ear. A couple of seconds later, Hailey could hear the faint sound of someone's voice answering. "Target secured. Ready the statement. Wait for my orders." It was a quick call, and when it was done, the woman reached her hand out for the documents.

Hailey clenched her jaw. "Wait for your orders? I said release him first, and then you can have the documents."

"It's just a precaution, Miss Reed," said the agent. "I have to make sure you're not fooling me."

Hailey stared boldly at the woman, determined not to give in. She had put her terms down, and she wouldn't back down. "These are the original documents, and you will get them, as soon as you release him."

The woman sighed. "I promise, Miss Reed; once I have confirmed that the documents are the original documents, I will give the order, and the Scotsman will be cleared of all charges. By all means, we can stand here the whole night if you so wish. But I believe your friend would much rather be out of his holding cell than in it. Am I right?"

Hailey sighed. What choice did she have? With trembling hands—and a bit hesitantly—she grabbed the envelope and handed it over. The woman opened the envelope and pulled out the documents with the encoded account numbers on. She scanned them, flipping the papers over, holding them up against the sun, and after what seemed like an eternity, she looked at Hailey.

"Thank you for your co-operation, Miss Reed," she said as she closed the envelope again, and she once again picked up her phone. Five seconds later, the same muffled noise was heard. "Submit it." Hailey took a ragged breath of relief, and felt satisfaction. At least Chibs would be free, and maybe—just maybe—Tyler would leave them alone now. He had the codes, so he didn't need her, right? But before Hailey had had the time to even blink, the woman had reached in to snatch the gun from Hailey's hand, causing her to stumble backwards, gasping. Maretta Chalvais discharged the gun and let the magazine drop to the ground before she tossed it back to Hailey. "That is a dangerous toy if you don't know how to use it." A second later, a gun had been drawn on Hailey, and Maretta Chalvais motioned her to walk towards the car, and forced her to sit down in the back seat, and as she was well seated, she noticed she wasn't alone. In the back seat sat a man, also in a black suit and shades, with a gun directed at her, and Hailey froze. She had seen these people before. "I'm terribly sorry, Miss Reed, for this inconvenience," said Chalvais before closing the door. She then took her shades off, revealing steel grey eyes in a stern but pretty face. "I'm afraid this is a necessary precaution."

**¤(SoA)¤**

They had talked outside the interrogation room for ten minutes now, or something. Chibs was getting restless. He glared at himself in the mirror, but he wasn't looking at himself, no, he was looking at the bastards sitting behind the glass, staring back at him. His hands were cuffed, and they had been in the middle of another pointless argument before another cop had entered and said there had been some complications and the Sheriff was required. Three minutes later, Rosen had been called outside, and they had now been away for a rather long time.

Sighing deeply, Chibs leaned back in the chair and started tapping his foot onto the floor, along with a tune of _The Who_ playing inside of his head. Just when he was about to enter the second chorus, the door opened, and Rosen entered with a much enraged Sheriff at his heels. Chibs straightened, looking questioning at both Rosen and Roosevelt. The lawyer took a seat while the Sheriff remained standing as he crossed his arms.

"I don't know how you did this, Telford," he growled, "but I will find out. Trust me."

Chibs pulled his brows together. "Wha'?"

Rosen leaned in to whisper, "the case is closed. The evidence has been proved false. A statement was just given, from Craig Tyler himself. They can't hold you any longer."

Despite the relief, a pang of anxiety spread through his body. Had Craig Tyler himself given a statement saying that Chibs was innocent? To a crime he _had_ committed, no less? Something wasn't right. Even when Roosevelt had released him from the cuffs, he remained in his seat. With narrowed eyes and tightened brows, he looked up at the Sheriff. "How's tha' possible?"

"I might ask you the same thing," Roosevelt growled.

Clenching his jaw tight, Chibs rose, slightly taller than the Sheriff. With a low voice, the Scotsman replied, "the girl is safe, but I don' know fer how long."

Roosevelt nodded, his face somewhat softer. "Tell me what you need of me to help."

"Find Tyler." Chibs stared long and hard into the Sheriff's eyes, before Roosevelt finally looked away and nodded before looking at him again.

"I'll do my best."


	23. What You Deserve

**A/N: **I said Thursday, didn't I? Oh, and again, thank you all so much for your lovely reviews! You're not just great; you're awesome, too! :D

Oh, and; DROPKICK MURPHYS WERE FREAKIN' AWESOME! Seriously, it was great! Though, I literally had to fight in the crowd to maintain my perfect spot. Ended up with some bruises and a mean muscle soreness for being constantly tense for about three and a half hours. But the show was great! :)

Alright, so, while talking about music; today's quote is from _Promises_ by **The Cranberries**. I've used this song before, but it doesn't matter because it's an awesome song! Go listen to it! Now!

Now, please,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

"_You better hold on to your promises because you bet you'll get what you deserve."  
_— _Promises, The Cranberries_

The hall was brightly lit even though it was the basement of an office building. The guns had long disappeared as they had realized they didn't need them to keep Hailey in order. She was being gently guided forwards by the man, recently revealed to be named Pierre, and Maretta Chalvais led the small troop. In the tight corridor, they met several people, all running around, speaking frantically in French over the phone, some running around with computers and some chatting away with each other. All and all, Hailey counted the people she met to twelve, before she was guided into a rather small room. There was a table stationed against the right wall, and along the farthest wall, there was some kitchen counters with a coffee maker atop, and a small fridge underneath. Even though the basement room had grey walls, stone floors and seemed rather dismal in general, they had evidently tried to cheer it all up, using brightly colored tablecloths, keeping colorful refrigerator magnets on the fridge door and the left wall was completely covered with photos, notes, red yard connecting one photo to another, in a most complicated pattern.

"Coffee, Miss Reed?" asked the tall female agent.

Hailey was confused. When was she being taken to Tyler? She glanced over at the wall again, and suddenly, she saw that all the red lines connected in one single point, by a photo of a sharply dressed, fifty-something man, and underneath it, she could read the name _Craig J. Tyler_. With furrowed brows, she looked over at Maretta Chalvais.

"Coffee?" she repeated.

Hailey stammered on "um," until she finally nodded. "Coffee would be nice, thank you."

Maretta nodded and turned to tend to the coffee maker. "Take a seat, won't you."

Hailey did as told and sat down by the table. Pierre sat down diagonally from her. "What is this place?"

"It's our head quarters," said Maretta while pouring coffee into three cups. "As you may already have understood, we're seemingly working with Craig Tyler." She then turned with the three cups in hand and walked over to the table. She sat down in front of Hailey, placed one cup in front of her as she slid one over to Pierre and kept the last for herself. "That would be a fairly correct observation. Or rather, _I_ am working for Craig Tyler. However, that is part of a larger operation."

Hailey swallowed. Did this mean she would be the target for more people than Tyler? "So… you have your own syndicate, or whatever?"

Maretta and Pierre looked at each other, and smiled, before Maretta shook her head. "Miss Reed, you astonish me. You trust me enough to bring me the documents—the originals, no less—worth billions of dollars, and believe me when I say I'll clear your friend, but when I tell you who I am, you don't trust me one bit! I was sincere when I told you who I am." Again, she pulled out her badge from her jacket, and placed it in front of Hailey. Pierre did the same.

She observed them, carefully, and everything seemed to be in order. But she didn't understand. Why would the _French government_ want anything to do with _her_? Unless they wanted the money, of course. But still, the money wasn't a national claim now, was it? And if so, wouldn't it be Swiss, or perhaps even German, since Barnaum was German born? Or even American, since he was an American citizen? And Chalvais had said that she'd had contact with Gerster Capital… so Mark Pertille had betrayed her after all? She shouldn't be surprised. It had been foolishly naïve of her to trust the man in the first place. Yet, she couldn't deny the bitter sting of disappointment as she thought about it. She had been so convinced that if there was anyone she could trust, it was him.

"Convinced yet?" Maretta asked lightly.

Hailey clenched her jaw and pushed the badges away. There was nothing she could do to disproof them. "I just… I don't understand! Why am I here?! Are you taking me to Tyler, or not? Why do you want the documents?"

Maretta sighed as she closed her eyes and nodded. "I understand this must all be very confusing for you. Trust me, it was very unfortunate that you had to get involved in the first place. It must have caused you pain."

Hailey huffed sarcastically. "Nah, I wouldn't say that. I think it to be rather refreshing to be on the run, constantly looking over your shoulder, not being able to trust anyone. Oh, and on top of it all; don't we all want our parents _killed_?"

Maretta Chalvais' pretty face changed, and she clenched her jaw tightly. "That was unfortunate, indeed. I promise, I didn't know what he was planning."

"Bullshit," Hailey growled. She wasn't nervous anymore; she was angry. This if this woman was right, if she _was_ from the French government, then why did she let Tyler kill her parents?

Maretta nodded. "I understand you feel that way, and—"

"You don't understand a shit!" Hailey spat and crossed her arms.

"Craig Tyler called for that hit in private," Maretta barked sternly and bore her grey eyes into Hailey's blue. "No one knew about it. It was an act of desperation. I learnt about it when it was too late."

Hailey felt her breath ragged as she stared at the woman. Tears were building, but she suppressed them. "Who did it?" It was nothing but a hoarse whisper, but she had to know. "Who did the… the deed?"

Maretta sighed. "They call him the Butcher. First name Robert. There's not much more on that man. He appears when Tyler needs him and disappears when it's done, into nothingness, it seems. The police have been looking for him for years, but he is one difficult bugger."

Hailey had to blink away the tears, taking deep, trembling breaths while biting down hard.

"Miss Reed," Maretta continued, taking a deep breath. "This is what's going to happen, if you approve; you will be fully informed of what _we_ do, of what this _operation_ does, and of what will happen in the future. But since you will be informed, carrying information that is strictly classified, you will be a part of this operation. If we go down, then so do you."

Hailey chewed on the insides of her cheek before she looked at Maretta. "And what if I don't approve? What if I don't want any more involvement?"

"No more involvement is rather impossible, I'm afraid," said the woman. "However, you could choose to only hear about the parts that concern your safety, but that will put everybody else away."

She pulled her brows together. It wasn't much of a choice now, was it? She wanted to know what would happen to the people around her, what would happen to Chibs. What were they going to do with the codes? Could they reach the money even though they weren't _her_? After a deep sigh, she nodded. "Fine. Tell me everything."

**¤(SoA)¤**

Rosen had already called the boys, and they were greeted like kings once they returned to the garage. But Chibs was cautious. Would there be a mass-shooting? A mass-arrest? Roosevelt had said that he most likely wasn't the only one Tyler would chase like he had. But he concealed his worries as he greeted the boys, hugging them, laughing with them. It was good to be out. Five days in custody wasn't really the ideal vocation, even though it could have been worse.

Jax had a big smile on his lips, a smile he hadn't worn for a while. "Man, it's good to see ya!"

"Aye," Chibs chuckled as he hugged his President. "It's good te be back. I got lucky, Jackie-boy. Maybe me Lord hasn' forgotten about me just yet."

Jax shrugged. "Well, you don't have to thank the Lord for that." He shook his head, still with his smile on. "I didn't think she'd make it. I didn't think she'd pull through, but here you are."

Chibs furrowed his brows. "Who? Who make wha'?"

"Hailey," Jax said. "She got you out, man! It was that banker guy, in Switzerland."

There was a heavy feeling dawning down upon him as he learnt to know this truth, especially when he knew that it was Craig Tyler himself that had given the statement that cleared him. Clenching his jaw, he looked around. "Where is she?"

Jax tightened his brows, clearly alarmed by the sudden severity in the Scotsman's voice. "Juice took her back to your place. Said they were getting some stuff. Figured they got stuck talking, or somethin'."

Chibs clenched his jaw. "They aren' back?"

Jax shook his head. "No, but she's safe. She's with Juice."

Feeling how restlessness and worry started to spread through his body, Chibs brought his hands to his hips and kicked away some gravel while muttering to himself.

"What's the matter?" Jax asked. "What's the problem? They'll be back soon, don't ya worry."

Sighing, Chibs looked at the younger man. "Ye say tha' Hailey fixed this? Then I am very curious o' knowin' wha' the hell she did, since a _statement_ was given, by _Tyler himself_, sayin' I was innocent."

Jax eyes changed. The cheerfulness was gone, and he had just realized the exact same thing as Chibs.

The Scotsman shook his head. "If she's gone, I'll kill Juice."

Jax nodded and then he clenched his jaw and looked around. "Alright, man, let's go."

Chibs agreed and turned to Tig, who was talking to Rosen. "Hey, Tigger! Keys!"

Tig furrowed his brows. "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna make sure they haven' trashed the place," Chibs laughed.

"God, you're such a pedantic little prick, you know that?" Tig sneered as he tossed the Scotsman the keys to his bike. "And please bring it back this time!"

"Thank ye," Chibs smirked, "fer referring te me as 'God'." He then joined Jax by the bikes, dropping his fake smile, as they roared away. They kept a steady pace—an illegal pace—all the way to Chibs' apartment and once getting there, they could find neither Hailey nor Juice. Chibs slammed the door shut while muttering angrily, spitting out various cruses in Gaelic.

Jax muttered, too, as he pulled his phone out. A couple of seconds later, he was roaring over the phone. "Juice?! Where the fuck are you guys?" Jax paused, and Chibs could hear Juice's muffled—yet panicked voice—from the other side of the line. "Juice—Ju—Juice, what are you talking about? Juice?! Wha—she _what_?!"

Feeling how everything was about to blow within him, he extended his hand. "Give me the phone."

Jax seemed torn between handing Chibs the phone and taking the call himself, but yielded and placed the phone in Chibs hand.

Juice was still rambling—to Jax though, for all he knew—when Chibs brought the phone to his ear. "Juice, listen up."

"_Chibs? You—you're out?!_"

"Aye," Chibs sighed. "Where are ye?"

"_In Oakland. Look, she didn't tell me—_"

"Where in Oakland?"

"_Um… outside an office building. It says… it say_s Brandon's Marketing. _Look Chibs, man, I didn't know where—_"

"Is she inside?"

"_Yes! They took her, man! I didn't get to see them, but it was a black Sudan, and I followed them, and—_"

"Ye stay where ye are," Chibs commanded. "We're on our way." Before he could let Juice explain further, he hung up and handed the phone back to Jax. "They're in Oakland. Shite's goin' down, Jackie-boy."

Jax nodded, his jaws tightly clenched. "I'll send Tig to pick up Tara and the boys, and then we call for a lock-down. You and I go to Oakland, fix this mess up, get Hailey back."

Chibs nodded, eager to be on his way. If she was hurt, in any way, he would kill the bastard who did it, without as much as a hint of remorse.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Hailey had to breathe for a moment before she could set things straight. "Okay, hold on; so, you're basically telling me that… well, _my_ money, aren't really my money?"

"Oh no," Maretta said. "You're missing the point! Siegfried Barnaum was infiltrating neo-Nazi terrorist organizations in Germany, and that's how he came across that whole collection. He gathered them in an _illegal _collection, completely unknown to the German government. When he started to gather things that belonged to the French government, too, it became a concern of ours. Now, those artifacts have been sold off, and the money has been given to you. That's nothing we can do anything about. It's the artifacts we wanted, not the money."

"So, he tailed the terrorists to France, from Germany?" Hailey asked, trying to make this puzzle fit together. "And that's where he met Tyler?"

"No." It was Pierre's first word in this whole conversation, and even from one short word, Hailey could hear a distinct French accent. "He got in _contact_ with Tyler, through associates. It wasn't until many years later, when Barnaum had retired and moved to America that he actually met with Tyler."

"But I don't get it!" Hailey wailed. "So, you are after the money, but not the money? You're also after Tyler, just because… you're after Tyler?"

Maretta rolled her eyes. "Again, Miss Reed; Tyler spent many years in France, in neo-Nazi terrorist groups, that had _connections _to the German groups in which Barnaum was included. Tyler has been wanted by the French government for many years now, but he alone isn't our biggest concern; it's his connections to the organized criminality around Europe, and the rest of the world for that matter. This operation is a co-operation between several European countries, as a part of a major counter-terrorism act."

"But where does the money fit to the picture?!"

"When Barnaum came to America, Tyler sought him out, thinking he was a good link to the rest of Europe, since it would be very dangerous for himself to travel anywhere. When Barnaum sold off his collection for that massive amount of money, Tyler was obviously very interested in getting it." Maretta Chalvais sighed. "I believe Tyler must have worked a great deal on Barnaum, trying to get him to sign the money over to him before he died, and since Barnaum was very ill at the time, it wouldn't surprise me if Tyler used very cruel means of manipulation to get his wish. However, Mr. Barnaum was always fond of games, especially games that included clues. So, that is why he split the money into accounts and made clues, together with strict rules to the bank of how the money was to be accessed. Just a couple of months before he died, he contacted us, telling us about the money and Tyler. He said that Tyler would most certainly try to get it, and that we should be ready. Together with Germany, we put Gersper Capital under strict supervision, but since the Swiss government didn't support our cause, Tyler was allowed into the country, and we couldn't do a thing about it. Up until recently, the Swiss government has worked against us. They are now included in our counter-terrorism act, as well. Should Tyler try to enter that country again, he will be arrested."

Hailey furrowed her brows. "Why can't you arrest him here?"

"Because that would ruin this whole operation," Maretta said.

"Is the American government included in this?" Hailey asked.

Maretta shook her head. "Tyler's influence is too big. We cannot risk it."

"So," Hailey sighed, "where do I fit into the picture? How did you know where to find me?"

"Well, obviously, you became involved once you got hold of the documents and cracked the codes," Maretta said. "And you became even more involved when you decided to make copies. Gerster Capital contacted us the moment they noticed someone had logged into the accounts. We pin pointed your IP address to a Filip Telford, and worked from there. Had you not run about town and straight into Tyler's men, I never would have had to contact you as briskly as I did. However, that might have been for the best."

Hailey nodded, trying to make it all sink in. "Right, well… now when I'm 'informed', what do you want from me?"

Maretta took a deep breath. "I need you to turn yourself over to Tyler."

Hailey raised a brow. "Why?"

"Because he would then have a reason to go to Switzerland," Maretta shrugged.

"It sounds too easy," Hailey said. "He can't go to Switzerland."

"Doesn't mean he won't," Maretta pointed out. "When it comes to eight billion dollars, he'd do it. Oh yes, I know about the whole amount."

Hailey swallowed. "Right, so… you want me to turn myself in, let Tyler take me to Switzerland, so that you can arrest him there?"

"Correct."

"And what if we fail? What if he sees right through it? What if he sends me there with someone of his closest?"

"Then we'll have to think of something else," said Maretta. "We'll need to be flexible. You have to get to Zürich no matter what, and move the money. Keeping them on those accounts are dangerous as it is, to more than one part. Tyler is already working on a way of hacking the safety system of the bank."

"So then, what does it matter if I move my money, if he will be able to steal from others?"

"Oh no," Maretta said, "he only means to hack into _your_ account. No, he doesn't do things that are unnecessary. It's your money he wants, and he's quite determined to get it. In his world, that money is easy money. Or, it was supposed to be. No matter, it's for the best if you move the money anyway."

Hailey sighed, feeling how it all became too heavy. "Fine. So, when and where? And what will happen to me after?"

"We will secure your safety, of course," Maretta promised. "We will keep—" But Maretta was disturbed by sudden yelling from out the hall, sounds of fighting and—was that gunshots? Both Maretta and Pierre shot up from their chairs and drew their guns as they carefully yet quickly made their way to the door and threw it open. Hailey hurried to follow, even though she knew it might mean danger—she just had to know what was going on.

Well out in the corridor, the fuzz had settled, but the air was tense, and neither Maretta nor Pierre had lowered their guns. One man was sitting on the floor, blood oozing from his foot.

"What's going on?" Maretta demanded. Farthest down in the corridor, almost by the door, there was a cluster of black backs, and one of them turned.

"Intruders! Bashed Morgan's head into the wall, shot Wilkinson in the foot." The man stepped aside, and so did another, and revealed three men on their knees with their hands behind their heads, and Hailey had to stop to catch her breath once she saw who they were.

"Chibs?" It wasn't more than a whisper, as she mostly tried to understand the fact that Maretta Chalvais hadn't fooled her. She'd cleared him. He was out. He was free. And now, he had a gun pointed towards his head, as well as Jax and Juice.

"Identify yourselves!" Maretta ordered as she held her gun steady.

"Wait!" Hailey shrieked as she ran ahead and stood between the British woman and the bikers. "Wait! Don't—they're—that's my friends!"

Maretta Chalvais raised a brow but lowered her gun. "The Sons of Anarchy?"

Hailey nodded. "That's… that's Filip Telford, um, and that's Jackson Teller, and that's… Juice." She swallowed as Maretta walked past her and towards the three men.

"Mr. Telford," she started. "So, the statement landed in the rights hands. That's good to know."

Chibs glared at the woman, and Hailey held her breath.

But it was Jax who broke the silence. "You fucking bitch; leave the girl alone."

A loud smack was heard, and Hailey looked away. This was all going to hell. Maretta growled, "don't you dare call me that again. And the girl is safe. Something you're lot hasn't succeeded with, apparently."

"The statement was signed by Craig Tyler," Chibs said, and Hailey could hear the restraint anger in his voice.

"It was a fake statement," Maretta drawled. "However, it's official, and he can't withdraw it."

There was a tense silence between the different parties, and after a short while, French muttering could be heard in the narrow corridor.

"Well, if you're not gonna kill us, would you at least not aim your guns at us?" Jax said through gritted teeth. The guns were removed, and the bikers were allowed to stand. "You're not working for Tyler, then?"

"No," Maretta said. "And yes. But mostly no."

The three men seemed confused, and Hailey hurried to draw their attention. "Trust me; it's alright. I'm okay. This was all just a misunderstanding."

After what seemed like an eternity, Jax and Chibs nodded. Juice still seemed nervous.

Jax nodded towards the man on the floor further up in the corridor. "Sorry 'bout the foot."

"An' the head," Chibs muttered.

Maretta nodded, though still guarded. She then looked at Hailey. "I guess this is your ride. Miss Reed, I'll be in touch. And don't do anything stupid now."

Hailey nodded after keeping eye contact with Maretta Chalvais for a moment, and walked carefully away from her, as she gently shoved the bikers out. But before she could exit herself, Pierre had caught up with her, and grabbed her arm, to the point where Chibs would turn to give him a go, but Hailey stopped him. When Chibs had taken a step back, though with a much displeased face, Hailey turned to the Frenchman.

"This is strictly classified, Miss Reed," he said lowly. "If you expose us in any way, this whole operation will be lost."

Hailey nodded. "I understand."

"Take care, Miss Reed. We'll be in touch."

Hailey nodded again before she exited the building, and as she stood there, with her back turned to the closed door, it all seemed so unreal. She turned to look at the door, the small, grey, seemingly insignificant door, it all felt even more unreal. Did all that just happen? Had she just been pulled into an international counter-terrorism act? She was snatched from her thoughts by a hand gently closing around her arm, and she looked up to meet Chibs dark, brooding eyes, and without a word, she leaned into his chest and just exhaled deeply. At least she'd gotten him out. At least she'd done _something_ right.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Her hair was still wet as she sat in the couch and flipped through the channels. Chibs observed her from the kitchen, with a cigarette between his lips. She had told him what had happened, and he had yelled at her, told her how stupid she'd been to put herself at such a risk, and she had been hurt and locked herself in the bathroom for an hour or so. Once she came out, wrapped in a towel and with a blank face, she didn't say another word to him, and he just let it be. He knew he should thank her for doing what she did—without her help he would face twenty to life in prison for double homicide—but he couldn't get over the fact that she had been ready to give herself over to Tyler for getting him out of jail. He still felt the worry, the sadness, of losing her, and he didn't want that to happen again. He didn't want to feel that way ever again. With a deep sigh, he put the cigarette out and walked into the living-room. Hailey didn't even look up at him. With another sigh, he sat down next to her, snatched the control form her hand and turned the TV off. With a loud huff, she crossed her arms over her chest, and Chibs rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, love! I'm sorry fer shoutin', alrigh'?"

She snatched her head at him, her blue eyes furious. "Admit it; you think I'm a useless, clumsy little girl that has nothing to contribute with except for a pussy to fuck!"

Chibs raised a brow. "Really? _Really_? Is tha' how ye think I look at ye?"

She laughed sarcastically. "Well, no matter _what_ I do, it's wrong."

"Ye don' know what ye're gettin' yerself inte sometimes, love!" Chibs cried. "I worry about ye 'cause I _care_ about ye! Jesus Christ, lass, sometimes I wished I didn' even care about ye _half_ as much as I do!"

Hailey sighed and looked away, pulled her knees to her chin and put her arms around her knees. Chibs let his eyes slide, trailing along her bare legs, to the upper edge of the towel. He could hint the shape of her breasts as they gently pressed against the tightly rolled towel, and he had to clench down hard. Slowly, he pulled her to him, and she didn't fight him, but let her head rest against his chest.

"I'm sorry, love," he said. "I was just worried, tha's all."

"I just wanted you out," she whispered and looked up. "I didn't want you to rot in jail. It's not fair."

"Nothin' in this life is," he chuckled. He brought a hand to caress her face, just enjoying the feel of her skin underneath his fingertips again, and there was this strange feeling welling up inside of him, something he hadn't felt in a long time; love. Looking into those forget-me-not-eyes, having that scent of hers in his nostrils, feeling her skin, her warmth, could only be described with one word, and that one word was_ love_. He thought it irrational, since she was so much younger, and since he had promised himself never to love again after Fiona, but this… this was too strong for denial. There was no point in denying it. He could keep trying to avoid it if he wished, but that was just a waste of energy, because the feeling wouldn't rest. The feeling of profound, unconditional love that just spilled over as he looked at this girl; it simply wouldn't rest.

He bent down, and settled his lips on hers, and she answered him without hesitation. She slid her arms around his neck, and pulled herself closer, until she finally shifted to straddle him, and the towel fell off, revealing her naked body underneath it. Chibs welcomed her, and let his hands travel along her body while trailing his kisses down to her throat and further down to her collar bones. He felt her chest rise and fall rapidly, and with every rise, he could feel her one breast nudging his throat, and finally, that tease tipped him over, and flipped her so that she was lying beneath him. While he started to pull his shirt off, Hailey fiddled with his jeans, and between their rapid breaths, between their short pauses for air, they kissed each other hungrily.

Five days away from each other had obviously been horrible for them both, and it was to some consolation for Chibs, to know that he wasn't the only of the two who'd craved for these moments.

Hailey laughed against his lips as he'd just stepped out of his boxers, and he furrowed his brows. But she still smiled. "Are you sure you wanna do it on the couch? I mean… I wouldn't want your _inner woman_ to come out and go all pedantic on us, you know…"

He huffed sarcastically as he rose. "Fine then, Yer Highness." He grabbed hold of her as he threw her over his shoulder, with surprised shrieks coming from the subject herself, and he moved towards the bedroom. "Have it yer way."


	24. Choices

**A/N: **Dearly beloved; we have gathered here today—nah, I'm just kidding. You are dearly beloved, by me, my lovely readers! But you all know that! ;)

Right, so, I'm actually starting to see the finish line of this story.. I won't tell you how many chapter's are left, 'cause honestly.. I don't know. There are a few..

Anyways, today's quote is again from **Mumford and Sons** (oh, this wonderful, wonderful band!) and again, it's from the song _Broken Crown_. GO LISTEN TO IT, because it's an awesome song! I promise!

Right, so,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

"_In this twilight, our choices seal our fate."  
_— _Broken Crown, Mumford and Sons_

They both lay awake, tightly entangled, as they spoke of things that had nothing to do with anything, really. But in all their lightness, there was a heavy shadow weighing them down; she had to turn herself in. That was the deal. She had to turn herself in to Tyler, go to Switzerland and let the Swiss government arrest him. But things could go wrong. Things could go horribly wrong. And things _would_ most certainly go wrong. They both knew that, and they both felt the weight of it, but kept to the lighter things, kept to the things that made them happy for the moment. Hailey told Chibs about her dream house by the Mediterranean; a white stone house, with blue window shutters, on a cliff with a view over the sea and white shores below. She described the house using her hands, drawing lines in the air, and Chibs chuckled at her when she made an error and unconsciously erased the invisible line to redo it. She told him about her struggles to learn Italian, but said that it was far too hard and that she, at the time, had been far too busy with other things, like going to her first real parties, getting wasted for the first time and losing her virginity.

Chibs wanted to linger on that last part, causing Hailey to both roll her eyes and blush violently, but he didn't back down. He wanted to know, just by curiosity, he said—and probably to confirm his own abilities, too—how she had experienced her first time, and who it had been with. Mostly, he did it to tease her, because he knew it embarrassed her, and Hailey knew that _he _knew that she was embarrassed by it, and therefore, she retorted with sharp comebacks, and in the end, they were just laughing at each others' silly comments.

And yet, that heavy shadow wouldn't leave.

After a short pause of laughing, they both settled their worried faces, and Hailey sighed. "Are things gonna be like they were before once this whole deal is over?"

"Don' think so, love," Chibs replied.

Again, Hailey sighed. "But let's say they do. Let's say everything goes back to normal; you go back to your life, and I go back to mine. What then?"

"I won' be able te do tha'," he shrugged.

"What do you mean?" Hailey chuckled. "Sure you can! A couple of whiskies, a nice broad… you'll be right back on track!"

"Don' joke about this, Hailey," he muttered as he pulled his brows together. "Ye expect me te jus' forget about ye?"

She sighed. "No… I don't know."

"Wha', ye think ye'll just… go back te yer normal life, jus' like tha'?" He looked at her, and she looked up.

She shook her head. "No. No, I—I won't forget about _you_! Are you insane? But _my _life isn't constructed to easily forget things like this… _your is_."

He huffed. "Jesus lass, I though ye'd changed yer view o' this life by now!"

She sighed and sat up, holding the cover against her body. "No, but I _have_! And I understand it now! Well, I don't _understand _it, but I _respect_ it! I mean, you're always surrounded by women! Women that want you, Chibs. _That's _not a secret. And with your lifestyle, that's all you need, right? I mean, as long as you've got the club—your brothers!—you don't need a nagging Old Lady, right?"

"A naggin' ol'—I want _you_, Hailey! I won' be able te jus' _forget _about ye!" He sighed frustratedly and sat up, too. "I _love_ ye, fer Christ's sake!"

Hailey gasped a little, and he ceased his movements. Did he just say that he loved her? Did he just utter those words? She opened her mouth slightly to let out an answer—anything!—but there was nothing. Did he mean it? Did he really love her? "What?" she finally succeeded on squeezing out.

He sighed and drove a hand through his hair. "Aye," he started. "I…" But then he shook his head. "Ye make me _feel_, Hailey. Somethin' I haven' done in a long time." He brought a hand to her face and caressed it carefully. "I love ye."

Her heart was beating fast, fluttering and flickering, hammering away inside her chest, so hard, she was afraid it might break her ribs. He loved her. She hadn't really thought about her feelings before—sure enough, there _were _feelings, but whether or not it was love, she had never really figured out. But now, as he had told her what he felt, there was something within her that burst open, something she had denied. He was almost twice her age, but that didn't matter. He was a murderer, but despite everything, he'd done what he had to. He was a player, a shameless heartbreaker, but she hadn't seen any of that, and the thing she _did _see was a misunderstanding. He protected her, he took care of her, and he didn't just stimulate her body, but her mind as well. There was something about this Scotsman that was unique, something she wouldn't find in any other man, something she could only explain as love. So she smiled. "I love you too, Chibs." She leaned in to kiss him, and he greeted her lips with his, and there was something special about it, something that hadn't been there before. It was as if uttering those words to each other, a sacred bond had been made; a contract, a promise.

Together, they descended down on the bed again, and Hailey pulled herself closer to him, keeping her arms around his chest.

"So, wha' now?" Chibs sighed.

"I don't know," Hailey sighed. "Maretta will contact me, I suppose, and in the meantime, I sincerely hope she'll keep Tyler off our backs. When it's all done, when Tyler is arrested, I suppose I can just… I dunno, go back to Harvard. Finish my studies, and come back here."

He shook his head. "No. Ye're not gettin' stuck here, love."

She looked at him. "I thought we'd just declared that we can't be apart, right?"

He furrowed his brows. "Aye, but ye can' throw yer future away fer an ol' bugger like me!"

She huffed. "Future? What future? I'll be rich. I don't need a future."

Chibs rolled his eyes. "Ye don' mean tha'. Ye can go te Italy, just like ye've always wanted, an' get tha' education. Ye have the means, the motivation… do it!"

She shook her head. "No. No, I won't. Not without you."

He groaned. "Hailey, this is madness, an' ye know it!"

"No!" she cried angrily and looked at him. "You do _not _get to say that you love me just to later tell me we can't be together! I won't accept that!"

He sighed. "So wha' do ye say we do, then?"

After a moment's thought, Hailey set her jaw tight and nodded. "Let's get married."

He laughed at her. "Wha'?"

"Let's get married!" The second time she said it, it made so much more sense. She wanted to be with Chibs, Chibs wanted to be with her—she hoped—and to tell the truth, he wouldn't find a much better wife than her. He wasn't _technically _married to Fiona anymore; he was a free man.

"Ye don' even believe in marriages," Chibs said as he furrowed his brows.

"Not as a religious constellation," she admitted. "But if it's connected to deep emotional ties, then yes, I believe in the idea of marriage."

He shook his head. "Hailey, ye don' know wha' ye're talkin' about. Ye're still young! Jesus Christ, ye've barely started yer life!"

She rolled her eyes. "Spare me your speeches—"

"I'm pushin' on fifty!"

"And I'm pushing on thirty!" she cried. "Goddamn it, people my age already _are_ married with children and house and whatnot! They married after _High School_, Chibs! They haven't had their pick around, but I _have_!"

"Not exactly wha' I wanna know, love," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes again. "What I'm saying, is that this isn't a thoughtless decision! I've been in this discussion before, but then, I was on the opposite side, because I didn't think it was right. I wanted to wait, for someone better to come along. Do I think that there's a handsome, big-nosed Italian man out there waiting for me to run into his arms and have his babies? No, I don't! I don't believe in fate, Chibs! I believe in the present. I believe in the right _choices_. I believe in coincidence. Was it fate that brought us together? No, it was coincidence, and we have to roll with it."

Chibs clenched his jaw and was silent.

Hailey sighed. "But, you know, if you don't think it's a good idea, then fine. Just don't give me this whole speech about me not thinking it through."

"Well, it sounded rather unplanned an'—"

"Yeah, it was _unplanned_," she huffed, "but it wasn't _unconsidered_. But, again, if you don't think it's a good idea—_not _because you doubt my ability to think longer than my nose reach, but because you simply don't want to—then fine. I'm just telling you that it's an option, and I'm up for it." He was silent for a while, as Hailey clenched her jaw and stubbornly placed her head against his chest. She was breathing rapidly, but he was breathing normally. Not fair. Thoughts ran through her head ; _did _she really think this through? She sure as hell was good at making it _sound _like it, but was it really the case? No, not really. But the idea itself wasn't that bad; living with Chibs, until they were both wrinkled and useless… the idea itself wasn't bad at all. On the contrary, it was rather inviting. She could see herself, on their stone terrace by their white stone house by the Mediterranean, shouting things at Chibs, because he's too old to hear clearly.

'I said _calvados_!'

'Wha'? Alcatraz?'

'_Calvados_!'

It made her laugh, and she knew that, yes, it was a well considered thought. It was a good plan. Or at least she liked to _think_ of it as a good plan. She tried to think of the negatives with a hasted marriage; the parties not really knowing each other, not really knowing their bad sides… well, that hardly applied on her and Chibs, because she was fairly sure she knew most of his bad sides, and he certainly knew _all _of hers. But they also knew each other's good sides, and those subtle little things that most people never noticed. She knew for example that Chibs had a soft spot for Sarah Brightman, and that he couldn't keep from shedding a tear—or two—whenever he watched _The Green Mile_, and covered it by muttering something about hay fever. She also knew that he hated when people were late, and he hated bubble wrap. He hated the sound of scraping cutlery against a plate, and he hated when his things weren't where he put them. She knew all that, things that none of the plastics knew. She wasn't even sure all of the boys knew all of those little things that made Chibs… well, _Chibs_.

The Scotsman sighed heavily, his chest rising high and falling deep. "Ye're mad, love, ye know tha'?"

Shrugging, she trailed a finger along the lines of his dollar bill tattoo on his chest. "No great genius has ever existed without some touch of madness."

He chuckled. "Ye cannot quote Aristotle in this, love."

"Why, if anyone is to be quoted in big questions about one's life, it's Aristotle, don't you think?"

Again, he chuckled. "Aye, maybe ye're right."

"I'm always right," she said. "Get used to it."

She felt his chest shake with a silent chuckle as his hand caressed her hair. "Christ, love; ye'll be one nightmare o' an Ol' Lady fer the boys!"

She rose slightly to look at him. "So, you agree?"

He raised his brows. "Well, love; ye believe in coincidence. I believe there's a divinity up there tha' likes te fuck with me. Wha' did I ever do te deserve ye're ass around fer the rest o' me miserable life?"

"Ha ha," she sneered and gave him a kiss while he laughed. "But honestly, that was the most unique proposal you've ever had, right?"

He barked a laugh. "Aye! Considerin' I've never _had_ a proposal before, ye know… should I be intimidated by this? Does this mean I'll be the wife an' ye'll be the husband?"

Shaking with laughter, she collapsed back onto his chest. "No, honey. No."

"Ah, then I'm alrigh'." He wrapped his arms around her, tightly, as they both still shook with laughter.

"Imagine it," she said after a while. "Hailey Telford… or maybe, Filip Reed?"

"Don' go ahead o' yerself," he warned with a laughter.

"You're right," she chuckled. "A name-change after this is probably for the best, anyway. Or, maybe… we come up with a brand _new_ name? Like… I dunno, MacBeth? That would give us some drama… Mr. and Mrs. MacBeth! That would shut people up… or—oh, I know!—or, we can change our name to Caesar? Then we'd be, the Caesars!"

He laughed, she laughed, and the suggestions kept coming, from both of them, growing more and more bizarre for every minute.

**¤(SoA)¤**

A vain pulsated in his forehead as he read through the papers he'd just received from Charming Police Department, where it clearly stated, that _he_ had signed a statement claiming that the Scotsman was innocent, that it had all been a mistake on that part. Craig had spent the last two hours on the phone, shouting at people, trying to figure out how the hell this could happen, but there was no sane answer to it. All he got was that the statement was final and that he couldn't withdraw it. He had called judges, senators, but they all said the same thing; if the statement was final, there was nothing that could be done. Maretta had brought him some comforting news, though; the girl was still suspected to be with the Sons. She hadn't been spotted, but the club had gone into some kind of lockdown. He had then sent for Marcus, to bring him some aspirin—strong motherfuckers—and a big, fucking glass of brandy. He had then demanded to be left alone.

He went through it all in his head, how it all could have happened. Pedro—the Mexican guy that had been the two fuckers' back up, should shit hit the fan when assassinating the President of the MC—had been hidden in the back of the van as bullets had been blazing all around the outside, and some even straight through the van. He said he'd seen it all, through the side mirrors, and he said he'd seen the Scotsman with the facial scars pull the trigger on Damien, and then they had bashed Simon's face in, before shooting him as well. The Scotsman had done them both, Pedro said.

Craig had thought about sending Pedro up on the stand, but Pedro was a prison escapee, and couldn't be seen in a court of law. So, the brown bastard was useless, and was therefore deeply buried in the desert by now. But no matter; the bullet had proved to contain the Scotsman's DNA. Evidence as that should be infallible! Craig had set his mind on getting rid of Mr. Teller, and then the rest of those fucking white trash bikers, but for a moment, his focus had changed. Craig Tyler was angry. He was angry at the Scotsman for somehow cheating the justice system. He was a murderer, and a proved murderer, and as such, he should pay the price. And if the justice system couldn't make him pay, then Craig would make him pay. Besides, according to his men, the Scotsman was some sort of life guard to Mr. Teller, and if he could get rid of the life guard, there was a bigger chance that he could get to Teller.

Robert had never let him down before. He did a fantastic job with the girl's parents, and the creativity on which the video was created, was astonishing. If Robert hadn't been a fucking fantastic hit man, he would have been a great artist.

So, picking up the phone, he once again pressed four—the number of the fourth Horseman, _Death_. He brought it to his ear, and five seconds later, Robert answered.

"_Mr. Tyler_."

"Where are ya, Robert?"

"_Nearby_."

"Good. I want ya do go to Charmin'. Tonight. I have a special assignment for ya."

**¤(SoA)¤**

It was late, but Hailey and Chibs decided that it was for the best if they got at least something to eat, so Hailey had taken it upon herself to show him how to make nice chicken stew. He wasn't completely lost in the kitchen, she had to admit that, and he was fairly easy to teach. In the end, he was seasoning it himself, and it actually tasted pretty good.

Or maybe it was just because she was happy. Yes, despite all, she was actually happy, because she finally had someone to lean on for real since her world had crumbled under her feet, and now, she knew she would be able to lean on him for the rest of her life—if they saw this marriage-thing through, that was. But so far, he seemed positive. They talked about practical stuff, such as yes, she had to finish her studies, and no, he would not wear a kilt on their wedding. The strange thing was, that all seemed so natural, as if it was supposed to be that way, it was supposed to be the two of them. They weren't inhibited in any way when talking about the wedding, as if the date was already set, and the guest list had already been written. They worked through issues, such as; church or cathedral—or backyard? Protestant or Catholic? Church or civil? Big or small?

"No, but I'm not part of a church," Hailey had said. "And I don't want a church wedding. Never wanted one."

"Right, well, I need somethin' there te symbolize _my _faith," Chibs had replied with a sigh.

"Why don't we mix it all up a bit?" Hailey had laughed. "We can have a Catholic wedding in a synagogue and let a Buddhist monk merry us?"

Chibs had rolled his eyes, but he hadn't been able to keep from laughing. No, maybe it wasn't all settled yet; the date wasn't set and the guest list hadn't been written. And they had definitely not decided church or no church, but they both seemed very settled with the thought that they would, sometime in the future—hopefully in the near future—be husband and wife.

For Hailey, who didn't really believe in marriage, it was more of a lifeline, really, a reassuring that she would be with him. That they would merge together, from two individuals, to one. Also—not that she mentioned it to Chibs, though—marriage would secure him getting the money, should anything happen to her. She wasn't stupid; she knew Tyler wouldn't be the end of this whole affair. More people knew about the money, and more would be after it. It would be foolish of her to claim that her attachment to Chibs didn't involve the safety she felt when being with him, due to his rather ruthless ways, no matter how much she morally disliked it. Again, this wasn't something she shared with the man himself, but judging by some of the topics he brought up, he already figured there was more to the story than her not wanting to be without him—he considered himself too old for something like that to happen to him.

She had asked Chibs about how he really felt of this whole thing. He had replied with a smile, saying that there was a young, clever, sexy girl wanting to marry him, and that he whould be a fool if he turned that opportunity down. She had laughed, though a bit disappointed for not getting a serious answer. He had later explained, while they were making the stew, that he loved her and that he wanted to be with her, absolutely! He was just worried she might change her mind once she discovered she'd done nothing but to tie herself down to an old man. To that, she smiled and said that she would rather take an old, wise man over a young, stupid boy any day. She had then kissed him, and the kiss had led to enough intimacy that they almost—just almost—burned the stew.

It was half past midnight once they had finished eating and done the dishes. Hailey was so tired, she could barely keep her eyes open, and Chibs yawned as he wiped the stove.

"Come on, sweetie, do that tomorrow," Hailey sighed. "Let's go to bed, okay?"

He nodded. "Ye go ahead. I'll just finish this up."

She snorted. "Yah, you _will_ be the woman." She could hear Chibs chuckle as she went into the bathroom and started brushing her teeth. She was so tired, she almost couldn't focus on her own reflection. She really needed some sleep. It had been a long day. A demanding day. She washed her mouth before she yawned loudly and put her hair up in a high bun. She was just about to leave the bathroom as a soft rapping echoed eerily through the apartment, and she was suddenly wide awake. She stopped by the door to look at the front door, and she could see Chibs hurrying up to the door while loading his gun. He motioned Hailey to stand back, and she took a step back into the bathroom, but she didn't close the door. She watched how Chibs came to a stand next to the door with his gun in his hand, ready to shoot. It could be Juice, for all they knew, but he didn't knock like that. Neither did Tig, nor Jax. Or even Bobby.

There came another soft rapping. Slowly, Chibs reached for the handle, when the door burst open, causing Chibs to shoot backwards and land on his back, the gun bouncing away from his grip as he hit his head on the kitchen floor.

In through the door came a large, bald man, wearing white rubber gloves and a brown, leather apron. At first, he didn't seem to notice Hailey as he stepped inside with heavy, black boots and grabbed hold of Chibs' sprawling legs, as if to drag him out. But instead of dragging him out, he pulled him aside, so that the door could be closed again. There were muffled groans coming from Chibs—he had dozed off for a second or two.

Hailey gasped silently as she watched it all from the door to the bathroom. It was him. It was the killer. It was the same man that had killed her parents so cold-bloodedly, it had given her nightmares for life. _Robert the Butcher_. There was another second of which the man hadn't spotted Hailey, but as he suddenly looked up as to look around, their eyes locked, and he seemed to be just as surprised as she. Another second, and Hailey had noticed the gun barely seven feet away from her, right between her and the man, and she had only a split second of thought as the man vaulted towards her, and she vaulted towards the gun.

She hit the floor, her knees and elbows taking a massive hit, as she reached for the gun, but the man, Robert, had grabbed hold of her hair as he pulled her up to her feet. She screamed as she tore frantically at the Butcher's arm and kicking him with all her force. He didn't seem to notice her puny attempts of harming him as he forcefully shoved her against the kitchen island, her head first. She felt the pain as her cheekbone smashed against the surface, ringing through her head like the sound of a broken television, only amplified by a thousand. She felt him tug at her hair once more as he lifted her head to once again smash it against the table, and thick blood dripped down her face. She succeeded on grabbing one of the newly washed forks Chibs had laid on the kitchen island atop a kitchen towel to dry, and before the big man had forced her head down once again, she roared as she drove the fork into his arm, the arm holding her hair, and he yelled as he let go of her, and she fell to the ground.

Her head was still ringing, and hurting like hell, but all she could think of was the gun. Where was the gun? She needed the gun! From the corner of her eye she could see how the big man pulled the deeply buried fork from his forearm, and he flung it across the room and growled—almost insanely—as he vaulted towards her again, his arm bleeding heavily. But Chibs was stirring, and just before the Butcher had reached her once again, the Scotsman succeeded to throw himself at the big man's feet, and they both came tumbling down, crashing on top of each other on the floor.

Hailey crawled away, the warm blood from her face staining the floor, as she frantically looked for the gun. She heard the men fight, but she didn't look back to see what was happening. Not until she had spotted the gun. It had disappeared, somewhere in the chaos, and now, it was gone. She looked around. For a brief second, she saw Chibs straddling the big man, his fists pounding viciously against the Butcher's face, and Hailey looked away to seek the gun. She then heard a loud bang, and she turned to see how Chibs had been pushed away, and was now suffering from the big man's fists.

Suddenly, she saw it, the gun! It was lying by the door, unnoticed and ready to use. She lounged for it, on unsteady legs, with a pounding pain in her head, and she brought her hand to her face as she tried to reach the gun. She was bleeding heavily from an open wound on her cheek, and as she reached down to grab the gun with shaky hands, it nearly slipped out of her grip as her hand was drenched with blood. She cried frustratedly as she finally grabbed on to it tightly and hurried to come to Chibs' aid.

Letting the safety pin slide, she put the gun against the bald man's head, and his movements immediately stopped. "If you move, you're dead, you son of a bitch!" Her voice trembled, as did her hands, but she was certain, that she _would _shoot, if the man moved one inch. She would shoot.

Chibs pulled away, breathing heavily. His nose was bleeding and he had cuts on his brow and on his cheek, but all and all, he seemed fairly unharmed. He kept a hand at his side as he rose, and he groaned a bit, but he quickly recovered and stood straight and tall. Looking firstly at the bald man, and then at Hailey, he reached his hand out, a silent request for the gun, but she determinedly shook her head.

This was her hit. This was her revenge.

He shook his head. "Love, ye don' know wha' it'll do te ye."

Her breath was ragged, and she had to hold the gun with both hands to keep it fairly steady, but she did not hand the gun over. She couldn't. "He killed my parents," she growled. "He killed my parents and he made me watch."

He sighed as he slowly reached to take the gun from her. "Hailey, love, listen te—"

It happened fast; the man, Robert, found a window and decided to use it, as he turned to smash his fist against Hailey's hand, knocking the gun out of it, but Hailey instinctively skipped backwards, dodging the fist with barely an inch, and with a loud cry—of both anger and surprise—she pulled the trigger, and the white kitchen counters was sprayed with red, stained with blood, as the man, the monster, fell to the floor, bits of his head missing.

And yet, she kept pulling the trigger, letting the muffled sounds of the silenced gunshots match the ticking clock on the white, blood-splattered kitchen wall.


	25. Let the Hard Times Roll

**A/N: **I love you all, so so much! Thank you for all your lovely reviews! Phew, I made it! I finished the chapter in time! Honestly, I thought this was the chapter that would break me, this was the chapter that wouldn't be finished in time. But I was wrong. Thought, I've got to warn you; there may be some errors in there, becaue I really haven't the strength to proof-read it right now. I sort of had an emotional break-down tonight, thus being convinced I wouldn't finish it. Though, I recovered and succeeded on pushing it out, but I'm way too tired to proof read it.

ANYWAYS, today's quote is once again from **David Ford's** song _Hurricane_, a song that means a lot to me. And you know the drill; listen!

Everybody,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

"_Let the hard times roll, no, we're not in control and we'd be crazy to think that we are."  
_— _Hurricane, David Ford_

She finished the round. There wasn't much left of the head once she was done, not much resemblance left in his face, and after, there was a deafening silence that weighed her down, and she collapsed on the floor while dropping the gun and crawling at far away from the body as possible. She had murdered another human being. She had taken a life. She had ended a creative mind. She had caused the electrical transmissions between that man's synapses to stop. Once, he was, and now, he was no more.

It took her some time before she could hear Chibs call for her, before she could feel his arms around her, and as she looked at him, she saw pity in his eyes. Not anger, not resentment; pity. She started to tremble, uncontrollably, and Chibs' grip around her tightened, and she looked back at the body, lying there, silent and still. They said nothing, yet the silence was almost too loud to bear.

What time was it? Four in the morning? They hadn't moved. None of the three had. There was an unpleasant odor rising from the dead body, and Hailey had now realized, after staring at the body for hours, that it wouldn't move. So she shifted her focus and looked at Chibs.

"We'd better take care o' this," he mumbled.

Hailey nodded. "Yeah." To come to terms with the fact that you'd taken a life wasn't something Hailey found easy. But after all those hours, after intensely staring at the dead man, staring at the brains that spilled onto the floor, and staring at the blood seeping into the wallpapers, she had started to realize what had happened, what she'd done. She hadn't only _taken a life_—not that 'only' was an appropriate adverb to use in such a context—but she had also taken the life of the man who viciously slaughtered her parents. She ought to feel some regret for eliminating a human being in a most unnatural way, but the relief she felt on the behalf of her mother and father, was enough to triumph over the regret. Was it the company in which she had found herself during this last month that had turned her into this cold creature? Was it the horrible experiences she'd lived through; the violence, the remorselessness? Or was this her natural way of mending what had been broken inside of her when watching her parents die? She had no answers. The only thing she knew was that Robert the Butcher was no longer a threat to her and her family. She did what she had to do to protect her own. It was just a shame she hadn't been there when her parents needed her.

She was the one to stir first, and rose as Chibs arms fell from her. He looked up at her, surprised, before he too rose from the floor.

"How do we do it?" she asked.

He looked around and brought a hand to his chin. "We'll call in the lads. You an' I go te the club house, get some sleep. We let the prospects clean this mess up."

She nodded, not quite comfortable with the fact that someone else was to take care of her mess. The poor prospects, no less! But she nodded. She had no idea how to dispose of a body, and wished rather than hoped that the prospects would know more on the matter.

Chibs made the call, waking them all in the middle of the night, but there seemed to be no hard feelings, other than worry. Tig was the first to arrive, and his eyes were alarmingly worried, his black hair wilder than usual. He embraced Hailey, groaning about the wound on her cheek. He nodded to Chibs—a silent conversation was held between the two men as they stood staring for each other for a moment—and when Tig then settled his eyes upon the dead man, he shook his head.

"Man, this isn't neat." He looked at Hailey. "You did this, doll?" She nodded. "That's brutal." Looking over at Chibs, he tightened his brows "What happened?"

"He came here te kill us," Chibs said.

"No," Hailey cut in. "He came to kill you, Chibs. He didn't know I was here. I wasn't included in his plan."

Chibs and Tig exchanged looks again—another silent conversation in a language Hailey could not comprehend.

Next, Jax and Bobby pushed in through the door. No one else had been called in, and Hailey was sort of relieved that Juice wasn't there. What would he think of her, seeing the body on the floor, seeing how the head was practically missing? Jax and Bobby both said she'd done the right thing. She doubted that, but it sure felt good, in a twisted, sick kind of way. When the prospects came along, one of them had to run into the bathroom to vomit as the sight of the bloody mess had been all too much, and once they learnt to know that it was _Hailey_ who'd done it, their respect for the girl rose to the skies. She could see it in their eyes, and while it brought her some comfort and confidence, it frightened her beyond explanation.

After a lowered conversation between the Sons, it was decided that Chibs would take Hailey back to the club house while the rest of them figured out what to do with the body, and Chibs didn't linger. He ordered her to back a bag—it was unlikely that they would be back for a couple of days—and she hurried to pack her clothes into a backpack she'd found in Chibs' closet, together with her toilet necessities and a couple of books she just packed at random. She'd have to try her luck once she was at the club house. She threw her shoes on, together with her jacket, and then they were off.

Once they arrived at the garage, Hailey found it eerily quiet. When the roaring of the bike had died down, and the slight echo of it had disappeared into the night, the sound of crickets playing in the night reached their ears. They were both silent as they made their way to the door, and Chibs locked up. As they stepped inside, and Chibs let on some lights, a newly woken Chuck stepped into the main room, in his pajamas, and bizarrely, without his finger prosthetics. He seemed rather confused.

"It's just us. We're stayin' here tenight," Chibs told him. "Go back te sleep, Chucky."

Nodding and mumbling something—Hailey guessed he was still partly sleeping—he turned and headed back into his room.

Hailey and Chibs looked at each other, and then they continued into his room. Well inside, Hailey tossed the bag onto the bed and sank down on the bedside. "What happens now?"

"I don' know." Chibs sat down next to her and sighed deeply. "We'll have te take one day at a time, fer now."

"You think Tyler will send someone else?" She looked at him with worry in her eyes.

He shook his head and took her hand in his, and he smiled. "I don' think he'll dare send anyone else, knowin' wha' happened te his beloved Butcher."

Hailey smiled weakly. She couldn't really rejoice in it just yet, because she was still struggling with whether or not she should feel bad about it. She _did_ kill a man. Or did she? Was it a man, or was it a monster? Until she had figured that out, she couldn't really smile at it.

Chibs must have noticed her moment of thought, as he leaned in and planted a kiss on her lips, after which he looked her in the eye, with a soft expression on his face. "Soon enough, love, this will all be over, an' you an' I will be baskin' in the sun by the Mediterranean, drinkin' grossly expensive whine an' the fuckin' best whisky, an' just livin' in plenty."

To that, she had to smile. "Yeah," she said against his lips.

Chibs brought his hand to her face, but she hissed as he accidentally nudged her wound, and he pulled away. At first, he seemed horrified, but then he set his jaw firm and rose. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

"But where—" He'd closed the door before she got to finish, and a minute later, he returned, carrying a first aid kit with him.

He sat down in front of her and put his glasses on. He cleaned her wound and patched it with tape, and when he was done, he advised her not to look herself in the mirror, with a laugh at a glimpse of a light joke in his eye. She asked why, and he told her, that her cheek was swollen, and would most certainly turn blue within a day or two. Though, he pointed out that she should feel lucky that the wound didn't need stitches, given how much she disliked that. She agreed, saying that she was very lucky indeed that tape would do just fine.

They then crawled under the covers, and pressed together closely due to the small bed.

"Chibs?" Hailey said after a moment's silence.

"Aye, love."

"Do you really…" She sighed. "Do you really want to marry me, or is that just something you say to make me feel better?"

He barked a laugh, loud enough to startle her, but low enough not to wake Chuck. "It's more suitable if I ask ye tha' question, love! How ye, a young and beautiful genius, want te marry an' ol' bugger like me!"

She giggled. "Well, you know, I actually find your silver roots kind of sexy."

"Kind o'?" he chuckled. "Love, ye've gotte give me better than tha'!"

"Alright," Hailey purred as she stretched up to kiss him. "I find them _very_ sexy."

He smirked against her lips. "Tha's more like it."

**¤(SoA)¤**

She was such a tease, he thought bitterly to himself as she turned to get some sleep. But, on the other hand, it was six in the morning. One more hour, and the garage would open. He wouldn't have to work, though—he simply _wouldn't_—and he could sleep for as long as he wished, but there was still some decency in him to know that he should at least fall asleep before he was supposed to get up again.

The feeling of Hailey's sleeping body next to his was soothing and comforting. She seemed so serene as she lay there, her red hair sprawled over the pillow. But he knew, that underneath that calm, peaceful surface, horrible memories and changes stirred. He had killed a lot of people, there was no point in denying that, but he still remembered his first kill. It was a boy, only a couple years younger than himself. He was a new kid in his neighborhood, a sturdy lad with heavy eyebrows. He liked to pick on people, and especially people that he shouldn't pick on, people like Chibs. There had been a brawl, and he remembered it clearly, and the boy—he couldn't remember his name—had been on him about some girl they both liked. Alcohol was in the mix as well, and one thing led to another, and the boy started spluttering things about the Real IRA. Angry and frightened, and only eighteen of age, Chibs bashed the kid's face in, and he didn't stop. There were several witnesses on the scene, but amazingly enough he didn't get caught for the murder. However, he did end up in jail only a couple of months later, on charges of destruction of public property when he'd been involved with a thrashing of a police officer's house.

But no matter; he knew that that first kill did to him. It hurt, it hurt to know that he'd taken another man's life. He'd ended the life of someone as young as that boy, and he had potentially prevented the world from having a great scientist or artist or whatever. Yes, that hurt. But it also made the next time much easier, because that hit had not been on an innocent boy who'd just suffered from the lack of judgment, but on a man who's snitched on the Real IRA.

Had he killed that boy while being in another state in life, he would probably have suffered from it for the rest of his life, but being in the violent environment as he was, he saw that shit every day, and the familiarity of the deed was perhaps the first thing that should have worked as an alarm clock. Instead, it worked as a comforter, letting him know that it was somehow okay. He was afraid that the same thing would happen to Hailey. He knew that Hailey was a smart girl, but being surrounded by people like himself, and the club, where violence was part of the daily routine, he feared doing something like killing another person wouldn't be as bad as if she'd done it while still being at Harvard. She wasn't a different _person_; she was just in a different _environment_. Sure enough, she had seemed to be gone for a rather long time after emptying that round in the man's head, but when she returned, she did so with much more composure than Chibs' had hoped for. Actually, he really _had_ hoped for less, because what she showed, was coldness towards the deed. She was more worried about what would happen next than what she had done. Not that he would have thought differently, but he didn't want her to be like him. He didn't want her to be a killer.

He looked at her, and suddenly, he wondered if it really was such a good idea for them to get married. It wasn't like he didn't want her. No, she was a most desirable woman; sexy, smart, great in bed… but she had such a wonderful mind, and to let it be polluted by the ideas of this environment was suicidal. But he had to admit, that the thought of having her as his—_really_ having her as his—was tempting. He wasn't even sure he'd felt the same way about Fiona, so many years ago.

After another moment of observation, he sighed and pulled himself closer to her, as he let his eyelids shut, and soon enough, he was fast asleep.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Morning. It was that time of the day. Morning…

Eli rolled out of bed, out of the strangely empty bed he'd found himself in every morning since his wife died. He still couldn't quite grasp it. That she wasn't with him any longer… it was thoughts like these that got him up in the morning; the pain it caused him to stay in bed, only to yearn even more for his deceased better half.

But today, he had a special mission. Today was a special day. He had thought long and hard about this, but he had finally decided. The Sons of Anarchy may have been criminals, and even though he couldn't prove enough to put each and every one of them in jail, as he would have liked to, but they _did_ share a common goal; the protection of Charming. And for the moment, that protection meant keeping Craig Tyler away, or bringing him down. Eli Roosevelt had settled for the latter. Half his force was on Tyler's payroll, and he had been asked himself, but declined. He wasn't that kind of person. Not after tormenting Juice like he had done. He still felt the bitter sting of his bad conscience when it came to the man, but done was done. He would have to spend the rest of his life apologizing if he wanted to repent what he'd done. And he wasn't that kind of person, either. He would admit that he was wrong, but he would not apologize. Though, he had leant something from that whole experience, and that was somewhere, to some extent, he could grow to trust the Sons of Anarchy, to some extent. And that was why, after thinking long and hard, he had decided to go looking for Tyler. Not arresting him, nor showing himself to him, but to just… look him up. And bring the info to the Sons. He knew how it could possibly end, but if it meant that he could get both Tyler and the Sons of Anarchy in one hit, that would be fantastic.

So, sitting down in his private car, he drove into Oakland. He knew the man to be around there, somewhere. If not, he was most certainly in Sacramento, at the hotel he owned. Eli, however, did not really feel like going all the way to Sacramento, and settled for Oakland. If he couldn't catch Tyler, at least he would try to get some useful information.

The Sons of Anarchy didn't trust him—and why should they?—but after his little chat with the Scotsman, it seemed like the MC was ready to accept a helping hand, no matter who the hand belonged to—be it the law, or Tyler himself.

**¤(SoA)¤**

It was about eleven when Hailey got up. Chibs had already gotten up, and was probably working in the garage. Hailey stretched and yawned before she pulled out some clothes from the backpack and got dressed. She brushed her teeth and braided her hair before she dared to walk out into the main room. But everything was as usual. Only difference, really, was that they nodded strangely at her when she walked past, as if they were all saying, "we respect you, don't shoot us," which, in Hailey's head, was absolutely absurd.

Gemma was there, too, waiting for her in the main room. "Hey babe," she said as she spotted the redhead. "Slept well?"

Hailey nodded and shrugged as she put her hands in her pockets. "Considering."

"Yeah, I heard about last night," Gemma said. "Tough. But you did the right thing."

Hailey groaned and sat down next to the woman. "I killed a man, Gemma!" she hissed.

"You can't think of it that way," Gemma said. "You protected your own. Everything's fair in love and war."

Hailey shook her head. "No, it's not fair, 'cause I don't even know if I regret it."

"Of course you don't!" Gemma said. "That man was a threat to those you care about, and you made a choice. It was self-defense."

"But I _wanted _him dead," Hailey growled through grilled teeth. "I wanted to blow his head off, and now, I'm I feel like I've completely lost control!"

"Sweetie," Gemma sighed and placed a hand over Hailey's, "we're never in control. Nature likes to fuck us hard, and this is just another proof of survival of the fittest. You did what you had to do."

Hailey sighed heavily. She needed to talk to someone else, someone who wouldn't be as partial as Gemma, someone who would be able to understand her from another perspective. "Have you seen Juice?"

"Yeah, he's in the back."

Hailey nodded. "Thanks. For everything."

"No problem, babe," Gemma smiled, and Hailey was off.

She needed to talk to Juice, not just about the murder, but about everything. About her feeling, about what Maretta Chalvais had told her, and most importantly, she needed to know how the bomb was coming along. Now, her plan was as solid as ever.

She found him out in the back, as Gemma had said, working away on someone's bike, presumably his own. When he noticed Hailey, he skidded to his feet with a big smile.

"Hey!" he said as he bounced up to her, still with an awkward limp.

She smiled back, though not as widely as him. "Hey."

"Heard about the…" He motioned his hands to his head, as if to try to avoid actually mentioning the killing part, and just settled with moving his hands to show and exploding head. Not that it made any difference to Hailey. But he soon dropped his arms, and frowned. "How are you?"

She nodded, but came suddenly crashing into his chest, swinging his arms around him. "Not very good."

He stroked her back gently. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

They hugged for a while, before they both took a seat by the table farther along the wall. Hailey then proceeded with telling him everything that Maretta had told her, and what the deal was. Juice listened carefully, nodded occasionally, but seemed mostly concerned.

When she was done, he shook his head and sighed. "Shit… I mean, things are just screwing you around, aren't they?"

She huffed. "No kidding!" She then shook her head. "I don't know what to do. I want to help her, because I believe her cause is good… but at the same time, well, we have our plans."

"Doesn't hurt to have another one in your back pocked, should something go wrong," Juice pointed out.

Hailey nodded. "You're right." She went on telling him about how precise she wanted the bomb to be, and though Juice had heard it many times before, he still asked the same questions about the whole thing—like what she really had in mind with this whole bomb-thing, why she wanted _two_ locks, and why she wanted it to be in a suitcase—and as always, he got no answers.

When they had been silent for a while, Juice took a deep breath. "So… what did Chibs say? Was he… well, was he angry?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Well, we had a stupid argument about me being reckless, but it was soon enough settled. No hard feeling."

"Did he say anything about me?"

She smiled. "No. I think you're in the clear."

He nodded. But he still seemed awkward, somehow. He shifted a bit before he inhaled, opened his mouth a bit, before closing in again and shaking his head.

Hailey raised a brow. "What?"

He shrugged. "Well, it's nothi—is there something going on between you and Chibs?" While he certainly did _try _to sound curious as in positive, he still managed so sound doubtful, with a hint of disappointment.

Hailey felt her cheeks redden. Could she lie to Juice? If she told him, how would he react? She swallowed. "Well, um… we… yeah, sort of."

He nodded while clenching his jaw. He didn't look at her. "I thought so." Then, he looked up, his brown eyes unreadable. "For how long?"

Hailey shrugged, not really sure what to tell him. "Well, it's been going on so gradually, I can hardly say _when_ it happened. It just _did_. I mean, we've been… well, I dunno, up each others' faces for so many weeks now, it's hardly a surprise… or is it?"

He shook his head. "No… no, it's not." It tore at her heart to hear the defeat in his voice. He then huffed. "That old fucker's still got it, I guess." He tried a laughed, but ended up falling flat on his face. Suddenly, he turned to her, with a strange fire in his countenance. "But, I dunno, I thought there was… well, something between _us_? Am I being an idiot? Of course I am…" He looked away, seemingly annoyed at himself.

Hailey sighed and frowned. "No, Juice, no! You're not an idiot! I just…" She sighed again, feeling so hopeless. What was she supposed to say? When she thought about it, she _had_ led him on. She just didn't think he saw her in that light. But maybe Tig was right; maybe Juice didn't know how to have female friends? "Juice, you mean so much to me, I don't think you actually _know_ how important you are to me! But, well, Chibs and I, we've—"

"You don't have to explain," he sighed as he shook his head. "I get it. No, I do. You're perfect for each other, and we all know it. You're the only one who understands what he's talking about sometimes!" When a smile crept across his face, she somewhat felt relieved. "I should have known…"

"I'm so sorry, Juice," Hailey whispered. "I didn't know you… I didn't know you felt that way."

He chuckled. "How can I not? Damn, I think most of us have a crush on you, Hal! Tig's protecting you like he does, Bobby's cooking dinner for you… Jax gives you a say in things that other women wouldn't get a word in, Chibs throwing his life down for you…" He chuckled again and shook his head. "Seriously Hailey, who _are_ you?!"

She chuckled softly and nudged him in the shoulder. "Well, it certainly isn't Miss Charming."

"Are you sure?"

They both laughed, and she felt so relieved that there'd been no hard feelings between them. She had no idea how Juice really felt, but at least he seemed at peace with the thought that Chibs was Hailey's choice and not him.

After a while, Hailey cleared her voice. "Can you keep a secret? Well, I don't know how much of a secret it is, but for now, no one knows."

He nodded. "Sure. Man, I feel like a kid…"

She huffed. "Right." Then she composed herself enough to say, "Chibs and I are thinking about getting married."

This, he obviously did not expect. "You _what_?!"

Swallowing, fearing she might have said a bit too much, she gasped. "I—I didn't—it's not settled! We were just talking about what would happen when all this was over, and it sort of came up, and—"

"'Sort of came up'?" he asked. "Hailey, have you really thought this through?! You, and Old Lady? No!"

She rolled her eyes. "Trust me, I've had _that_ conversation before."

"But how can you—why would you—are you _insane_?!" Clearly, this news had not been expected. "Are you gonna through everything away, for him? For _this_?!"

She huffed. "Well, there was a shit load of 'throw away'! I'm not throwing away anything! I'm _gaining_ something!"

"Yeah, a life full of shit!" Juice huffed.

She glared at him, but then she frowned. "You're my family now! You're everything I've got left! You and nana! What the hell am I gonna do without you, guys?!"

"Look, Chibs is a great guys, but—" He cut himself short and bit his lower lip, clearly frustrated. "Look, Hailey… this is gonna trap you. Being here, in Charming… this town kills you. It suffocates you. Hell, if I could get out, I would. But my life is here. Yours isn't."

She shook her head. "I thought you of all people would understand me?"

"Well," he sighed, "I don't. Unless you're planning on taking Chibs out of here, marriage is a bad idea."

"If I could, I would take all of you out of here," she muttered. And then she shrugged. "Well, you know what, I could. Actually, I could. I could literally get _all _of you out of here, and I could get you settled somewhere nice. I have the means."

He rolled his eyes. "Right, and where would you take us?"

She shrugged. "I dunno… Rome?"

He was silent for a while, before he started laughing. "Right, so instead of going to Italy, getting your… whatever diploma it is, and then live your life as a successful whatever you become with that diploma, you want to pack all of us with you and have us around you as some weird, crazy family?!"

Hailey laughed at it, herself. "Well, we've got Tig and Bobby; the yapping uncles. We have Jax and Happy; the mischievous cousins. And Phil; the cousin who always scrapes peoples' plates. We've got Chucky; that guys no one knows how he ended up in the family, but now he's here to stay. We have Gemma; the all-knowing Mother. We have Clay; the grumpy granddad… we're already set!"

Juice laughed hard. "Yeah, I guess you've really thought about this, huh?"

She shrugged. "I just think it's a good idea."

Juice sighed. "Ideas always seem good before you realize they're not."

Clenching her jaw, fearing he might be right, she sighed. "Well, at least I won't fail trying."


	26. I'll Be Bold

**A/N: **As always, I'm eternally grateful for your review! You are all so sweet, and I love you! :D

Right, so, today's quite is once again from **Mumford and Sons**. The song I'm using today is _I Will Wait_, and this was actually the song that got me to listen to them in the first place! :D So, go listen to _I Will Wait_ by **Mumford and Sons**! Now!

Oh, and

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

"_So I'll be bold as well as strong and use my head alongside my heart."  
_— _I Will Wait, Mumford and Sons_

He watched her. With a careful eye, he watched her. Was there any sign of regret? No. Was there any sign of psychological damage? No. She seemed perfectly content. It scared him to some extent to see how well she was doing. She had taken a life. She had killed a man; she shouldn't do this well. It was against everything he'd ever learnt about anything. It was against everything anyone had ever learned. It wasn't human to not feel guilty! Guilt was an old friend of Chibs', because guilt had been with him from the first time he disobeyed his parents, disobeyed his faith. He had leant to live with the guilt, thanks to the people he surrounded himself with. But Hailey… she should feel more guilt. She should be entirely engulfed by it, not strut around as if it never happened. All she cared about was whether or not someone would find out and if she would go to jail. It annoyed him, that she seemed to be completely remorseless. Sure enough, she did the right thing. It was a question of life and death, and she chose to live. But the way she seemed completely untouched by it all was almost enough to alter his opinions of her.

Two days after the incident, Chibs decided that he needed to talk to her. He had tried, but she didn't want to, and he did not want to push her. But today, he simply had to talk to her. He had to find out what her feelings were on the subject, and he had to know to what extent it all had changed her. So, he told her they were going to practice boxing.

The prospects were in the back when Chibs and Hailey arrived, and he ordered them to get out. He could sense that Hailey knew something was up, but she kept silent. They started out slow; limbering up and warming up. They then continued where they left off. It had been a while since he'd trained her, and he wanted to know what Tig had taught her. So she showed him. It was nothing special, almost laughingly simple, but he said that anything's good as long it's training. As he'd ordered her to repeat a pattern of hits against the bag, he cleared his throat and started, "so, did you sleep well last night?"

"Yeah," she said between her hits.

Chibs nodded and crossed his arms. "No nightmares?"

"No." Her answers were as precise as her hits, and just as short.

"So," Chibs started, searching for words, "how do ye feel about it?"

"About what?" She didn't take her focus off the bag, and with each hit, the next came faster and harder.

"About everythin'," Chibs shrugged. "Ye haven' talked much about wha' happened, love."

"I don't wanna talk about it." The sound of the impacts of her fists against the bag grew sharper for every hit.

"Ye need te," Chibs sighed. "Look, love, I know how it feels, an'—"

"Really, Chibs!" Hailey snapped as she caught the bag in her hands, and glared at him. "I'm fine. I don't wanna talk about what happened, because there's nothing to talk about, okay? We both knew what happened, we were both there, and now, it's over."

Chibs huffed. "Ye can' think o' it like tha', Hailey! It'll never be o'er. Take it from someone who knows. It will _never_ be o'er, an' the only way te reconcile with it is te talk about it."

"And how often do you talk about your victims then, huh?" she snapped, that sarcastic trade-mark smile of hers appearing on her lips. "Honestly, _I've _never heard you talk of one. Why? Because you don't think it's anyone business but your own, so let this be _my _business and let me deal with it as I want, okay?" Her jaw was clenched, her fists were tightened, and there was a peculiar anger in her countenance that Chibs hadn't seen before. In one way, it satisfied him, because it was at least some proof that she felt _something_ about what she'd done, but in another way, he felt worried, because he wanted to help her. He didn't want her to go through such a thing alone.

"Ye're right," he said. "I don' talk about the people I've killed. But tha' also means I know wha' it takes te lock it all up inside an' never let it out. It does things te ye, love."

"Yeah, well, I don't doubt you on that one," she muttered and continued bashing the bag.

"Then talk te me!" Chibs disliked begging, but he was truly worried now. There was something building inside of her, waiting to get out. He just knew it. Soon enough, she would rupture.

"I—don't—wanna—talk—Chibs!" she growled, letting every word be emphasized by a hit. "Just accept that, please?"

Sighing deeply, he ordered her to change combination, and just like that, the conversation was over.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Juice Ortiz had had many disappointments in his life. Hell, his whole life had been one big disappointment! He always tended to screw things up, no matter what, and everything he touched usually turned to shit. He was a troubled outsider kid when the Sons took him in. That Jax and Opie would ever want to be friends with the Hispanic geek was a mystery, but that's the way it turned out, and for that, Juice had to consider himself lucky. Yeah, he did consider himself lucky to have the club. It was his family, and it was the only place where he ever felt like he fitted in. Not that he really _fitted in_, he just… fitted better with those guys than anywhere else. At least, they respected him and welcomed him. Of course, he had to screw that up as well, but hey, that's his usual life, giving him the boot.

Even though he might have been rather awkward in any social situation, he had always been clever when it came to technology, because that was what he turned to as a child when no one else wanted to hang out with him. When he met Chibs, and when the Scotsman noticed that there were other things behind that Hispanic skull than stupid grins, he encouraged him to practice it. It would be fair to say, that it was thanks to Chibs Juice was where he was today. It was thanks to Chibs that Juice was alive in the first place. He owed that man everything.

And yet, he couldn't help but to feel some kind of resentment. He shouldn't be surprised, really; Chibs and Hailey were meant for each other. Everyone who knew them both would say the same thing. But Juice couldn't help but to feel some anger towards the Scotsman, simply for getting the woman he would very much like to have. He had never really been in love before, and he didn't know if he was in love with Hailey. Sure enough, he _cared_ about her, and maybe even so much so that he could call it love. He loved her. But was he _in love_ with her? He didn't know. But he would like to have that option, in case he would decide that he was. But now, that option was gone, because he couldn't be in love with someone who was in love with someone else. But of course he would be, because Juice Ortiz always tended to screw things up. He was a failure, in almost everything he did. But he couldn't blame any of them, really.

Chibs had stayed by his bedside at the hospital even though Juice knew the Scotsman hadn't forgiven him for the rat-thing yet, and he had been very protective and fatherly. Chibs still cared for him, even though he had screwed things up so bad, things might never be the same.

Hailey had never given him any leads about anything; she had treated him as a friend, and it was his own stupid feelings that got in the way. Had he been more flirtatious and more straight forwards about things—like how much he liked her ears, even though they were slightly sticking out—then maybe things would have been different. It was his own fault, really. She had treated him like a friend, and he had accepted it. He hadn't displayed any feelings, she hadn't displayed any feelings, and their relationship had always been platonic. It wasn't until he had started to suspect something developing between Chibs and Hailey that he understood that his feelings were more profound than just platonic. He had been jealous, but he knew that it would be best to hide it.

Now, when everything was out; now that Hailey knew what he felt, and now that he knew what she felt, there was nothing more to it. He would be her friend. He wouldn't let her down on that part. He loved having her as his friend; in fact, she was probably the best friend he'd ever had, and it was strange to think that only after a month or so. But he did. She did think of her as his best friend. She was the only one who listened to him, to his ideas, and encouraged him to think bigger. Or, well, she was the only one for now; Chibs had stopped doing that once Juice had turned twenty-five, or something. But Hailey listened, and she didn't judge him. While everybody else always called him an idiot—and to some extent, he was—she never did. She never looked down on him and she never laughed at him. In her eyes, they were equal. He might not be as bright as she, but she didn't let that be the judging factor. Oh, he would forever treasure their friendship, no matter if she married Chibs or not.

That was why he sat with that fucking drawing of that goddamn bomb until early mornings every day to get it done. There were a lot of little details she had described, and he felt obligated to make it as good as possible. Not that he really understood why; that part of the plan had been concealed, even to himself. To be honest, most things about her were concealed these days. It had been a week since she shot that man, and the prospects had worked their asses off to make the apartment look good again. They had even been forced to repaint the walls, several times, so that the blood wouldn't shine through in certain lights. When Chibs and Hailey were to move back in, everyone in the club uttered their concerns about whether or not it would be good for her to go back there. Chibs didn't want to leave her—obviously—and Hailey was convinced that it would be just fine. Chibs was worried, and had even gone to Juice about it. Juice had been very surprised, since he still didn't think the man had forgiven him. But he asked if Hailey had talked to him about it, saying that she might have, but she had not. But Juice could see why Chibs was worried; after the incident, she had seemed almost a bit too calm. She had been much more focused, though, on making whatever plan she had work. She had pushed Juice about the bomb, asking him every day about the progress, and the day he told her that there wasn't much left, she was thrilled. He almost didn't dare to ask what she was really going to use it for. Blowing up the documents—which would now have to be fakes, since she'd given the real ones away—seemed too simple. Besides; the bomb was no light-weighter; it was packed with enough power to blow up an entire building.

When it came to explosives, Juice knew a fair share. He didn't know as much as Bobby, but he did know a thing or two. At first, he had thought about going to Bobby about some things, but the deeper he got involved with the whole drawing, the whole idea of the bomb, the more he wanted to do it himself. It was a piece of art; the way it worked, the way it looked. The mechanisms that she wanted it to have were so fine and complex, it was a joy to make them. And he got to use his mind for technology, as well, which suited him just fine. When it was finished, a week after the incident with the Butcher, and Juice told Hailey about it, she seemed relieved.

"You are the best," she said with a smile. "Thank you so much. Really. I swear, I will pay you back one day."

"Don't worry 'bout it," Juice said. "It was actually fun making it. Not that it's, you know," he lowered his voice, "kind of a mass-destructive weapon, but I liked the esthetics of it."

She huffed and smiled. "Yeah."

"Hey," he said as he shifted awkwardly. "What exactly are you gonna use it for? I mean, I outta know, right?"

"I told you," she shrugged, "I'm gonna use it to blow up the codes."

"But you don't _have_ the codes," Juice reminded her.

"Yeah, but Tyler doesn't know that," Hailey reminded him with a secretive smile. She then left for the backyard, leaving Juice deep in thought.

**¤(SoA)¤**

She had done what she could. She had reported her missing, she had helped the police with what she knew, and now she just had to wait. Hailey still hadn't called, and Maggie would rather be safe than sorry. Shit was getting real, and shit was coming to Boston. Hailey's parents had been murdered in their home in Charlestown, and since Hailey hadn't called, Maggie had no proof that she was unharmed. Even though Hailey had told her to keep a low profile, Maggie felt like she simply couldn't do that any longer. Not since whoever was after Hailey had started to go after her family. Next, they might be going after her friends. But what could she do, really? She couldn't just sit and do nothing!

She hadn't been much open about the whole affair with other people, but she had had frequent contact with the police officers as they asked her questions, especially after the murder of her parents. There was a huge murder investigation going on, and Maggie was a big part of it, since she had reported their daughter missing only days before the murder.

She had just gotten back to her dorm after being on another interrogation at the police station, when she noticed a change in the air. She couldn't really put her finger on it, but something was different. Being alone for such a long time since Hailey went away, she knew what it felt like when she wasn't alone anymore. And she wasn't alone anymore.

She stopped to listen, her chest rising and falling rapidly. But she heard nothing, nothing but her own heartbeats drumming in her ears. Slowly, she pulled out her cell phone from her pocked and dialed 911. She slowly brought the phone to her ear and listened to the signals while keeping a close eye about the room. When a man asked what the emergency was, she breathed, "I think someone has broken into my dorm."

"_Would you please establish your location, miss?_"

But before she could answer, a sudden pain shot through her head, and her vision blurred, and she last thing she felt was the hard floor under her body.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Why was everybody on her about how she felt? Hailey felt just fine. But when people talked about it, the things she wanted to forget, she _wasn't_ fine! Why wouldn't they all just understand that? Chibs had been a pain in the ass the last week, as he had tried to get her to talk almost every night. Sex was usually a good way to shut him up, but sometimes, not even that would satisfy his bleeding curiosity. Because that's what she guessed it was; curiosity. How did it feel? How was it? Did you get a kick out of it? How did his eyes look the second before he died? It was all questions based on curiosity. She didn't _want _to think about what he looked like the second before she planted a whole fucking magazine into his head, because if she did, everything would come back; the horrible trembling, the pain in her stomach, the breaking sweat, the feverish heartbeats… it would all come back, and she didn't want that! It had taken her a lot of thinking to come to terms with the fact that yes, she had killed a man, and no, she didn't regret it. Because he was a monster. He had killed her parents, and he had most certainly killed other people. The way she saw it, she was doing the world a favor. She had eliminated a threat to society, and so society should thank her.

But Chibs wasn't the only one nagging; Bobby tried to 'reason' with her, as he so nicely put it, and Tig wanted to know the gory details. Juice didn't talk about it, but she knew that he worried about her. For what, though, she didn't know. There was nothing wrong with her, so why be worried about her? She was doing fine, as long as no one pushed her on the subject.

She was banging away on the punching bag that afternoon, and she was pleased with the fact that she now could do more. She had the strength to do more push-ups, she had the stamina to go longer, and she even had the skill to impress Chibs. She was progressing. And yes, she let a lot of anger out through punching that goddamn bag of sand, and for once in her life, she understood the therapeutic aspect of simply just hitting something. She carried Bobby's phone with her, should either Pertille or Chalvais call, and once in a while, she looked at it just to make sure she had no missed calls. Mark Pertille had called to give her some further information about what she had to do to access the accounts—she would have to take every even number in every account number and crack the codes they formed—and Maretta Chalvais had called several times to go over the details of their deal, and last time, she called to ask about the Butcher. Tyler was apparently furious over the fact that his most loyal man had failed him and disappointed him. Chalvais had guessed something had happened, and given Hailey a call. She didn't give anything away, but confirmed that the Butcher had been taken care of, and Maretta accepted that, more coolly than Hailey had first expected.

As she tore herself from the bag after constantly and viciously bashing it for forty minutes, she took a breather and had some water. It was a sunny day, and very hot. She'd had about two bottles already. Suddenly, the phone came to life. It was Maretta Chalvais. Hailey took one last gulp of water before she answered. "Yeah?"

"_It has to be done_." The British woman seemed serious. "_You have to turn yourself in as soon as possible._"

"But I thought you waited for an okay from Zürich?" Hailey said as she pulled her brows together. That was the plan, so why change it?

"_Yes, well, things have happened_."

Hailey felt her face drain. "What? What have happened?"

Sighing deep at the other end of the line, Maretta continued, "_he's taken a friend of yours. Margret Ellis_."

All color was drained from her face now, and her heart had almost stopped. She dropped the phone, and she had trouble breathing. He'd taken Maggie? A violent shiver ran through her spine as she thought about what sinister things Tyler would do to her. And Hailey felt empty. She couldn't feel anger, remorse, sadness, panic… she was empty. Maggie was the only person in the world that knew _all _of Hailey. She was the only person _she_ knew all of. They were best friends, and had always been best friends, and now… she heard Maretta call for her through the phone, and after a moment of recuperation, she picked the phone up. "When?"

"_She arrived this morning_," Maretta confirmed. "_Hailey, she's hurt and scared. There's nothing I could do; it will blow my cover. You have to turn yourself in, in exchange for the girl. You hear me?_"

Hailey nodded, and when she realized Maretta wouldn't see, she breathed, "yeah."

"_Tell_ _the Sons to make the switch, and I'll put pressure on the Swiss government_," Maretta said. "_Ready everything for a trip to Zürich as soon as tomorrow_."

"Yeah, okay."

"_You know what to do. Good luck_." She then hung up, and Hailey was left sitting on the bench, still keeping the phone to her ear.

It took her another minute before she sprung to her feet and rushed into the main room. There was no one there, and so she hurried out to the garage. She found Chibs working on his bike, and she hurried to pull him aside. "It's time," she said and looked at him.

He pulled his brows together as he took a cigarette from behind his ear and lighted it. "Time fer wha'?"

"I have to turn myself in," Hailey continued. "Or, well, _you_ have to turn me in."

He pulled the cigarette away from his mouth as he huffed out a cloud of smoke. "Wha'?! But I thought ye'd have te get some kinda—"

"Things have changed!" Hailey cried. "He's got Maggie! Tyler's got Maggie!"

They looked at each other for a moment, and even though Hailey could see in Chibs' eyes that he didn't want this to happen, he clenched his jaw and nodded.

"Right," he said. "I'll talk te Jax."

**¤(SoA)¤**

Everything was settled by the next morning. Chibs watched Hailey put her shoes on, and despite it all, he had to give her credit for being so calm. He knew he wouldn't be in he was in her shoes. Hell, he was nervous even _now_. He knew that the French fed had things under control, but how much could he trust her, really? At the time being, he didn't trust anyone but his own. But Hailey seemed calm. She seemed grounded. She was ready to do this, and had most probably been preparing for it for a long time. When she had put her jacket on, she looked up at nodded at Chibs.

"I'm ready." She spoke with a soft voice, the kind of voice that made his heart ache, and he nodded. He walked up to her, ready to open the door, when Hailey snuck her arms around his neck. "I'm gonna be fine. It's all gonna be fine. Do you trust me?"

He sighed. "Aye."

"Then trust me." She reached up to kiss him, and he took a firm grip around her waist and didn't want to let go.

But he had to. They had to go. Tyler had Hailey's best friend, and who was Chibs to tell Hailey she couldn't do what she had to do to save her best friend? Chibs would be willing to do the same thing for those he loved, so why rob her of that option, even though it stung sourly?

They lingered on the kiss, nibbling and tugging at each others' lips as to get as much as possible from each other before it was too late, and when they finally broke, there was a moment's silence between them.

"We should go," she whispered.

He nodded. "Aye."

They had decided to meet with Tyler at one in the afternoon. He had promised to bring the girl, if they did. Jax was the one doing the negotiations and the exchange had been set fairly. When Hailey and Chibs arrived at the club house, they were all gathered in the main room, kuttes on and killer-face established. He sensed that most of his brother felt the same need of seeing Tyler bleed as him. They didn't say much, and those who did spoke quietly.

Tig had embraced the girl, tightly and bittersweet; Chibs knew how much she meant to Tig, as a substitute for his lost daughter. And Tig had also been the one who'd been most against the whole thing.

"I don't give a fuck about that fucking Maggie!" he'd snapped when Chibs had told them about the whole thing. "She put Hailey in this seat in the first place, and I'm not gonna let Hailey risk her fucking life to save a shit friend like that!"

Jax had tried to reason with him, but it had been impossible. Tig had gone away for the rest of the day, and when he came back, drunk and senseless, he'd fallen into tears. There was something about the man that was just so dysfunctional, but Chibs could somehow relate to it; he would also want to get pissed and just cry, but his conscience prevented him from it. He had to be sharp. Hailey needed him more now than ever, and during those short—yet so horribly long—twenty-four hours, they'd had several silent conversations where they'd just looked at each other for many minutes, occasionally nodding, before looking away. Even though they didn't speak to one another, their messages were still clear.

_I love you. Stay safe._

_I love you, too. I'll do my best. _

When the hours closed into one, the whole club mounted their bikes, all armed to their teeth, Hailey behind Chibs, as they drove out of Charming. They were meeting in Oakland, where Tyler still could be in control of things, and they met by the docks. The Sons had lined up, an army of angry bikers, keeping stone faces, and Tyler had four cars behind him, and the triple amount of sharply dressed behind him, all of them generously armed.

They watched as Tyler stepped out of his car. He had a very smug face, yet there was a trace of anger there, as well. From the other side of the car, one of his men pulled out a girl, with brown, shoulder-length hair, gagged and tied. Her face was badly bruised, with swollen eyes and a cracked nose. She looked absolutely horrible. A pang of guilt and empathy hit him as he watched the frightened and badly beaten girl being hauled by a large man. What had they done to her? Was a beating everything? Or were there more damages, that weren't seen? He shivered at the thought; that could soon happen to Hailey… feeling how his anger rose, he clenched his jaw and tightened his fists, but stood his ground.

"Ah," said Tyler with that grim smirk. "So ya pulled through, huh? I did not think that of yah, if I have to be honest. But I am absolutely thrilled!"

"Let's just make the trade, Tyler," Jax growled.

"Of course, of course," Tyler said. "Send the girl over, and I'll let this lovely little peach go."

Jax shook his head. "We want her first."

Tyler laughed. "Son, I don't think you're in the position of makin' demands now, are yah?"

"Oh, for God's sake!" Hailey spat as she broke through the line and took a step forwards. "It's me you want, Tyler! Let her go, and we'll all be happy, alright?!"

Tyler seemed surprised but motioned her to come closer, which she did. Chibs was close to pulling his gun as he saw one of Tyler's men gripping her arm and pulling her away, but Jax stopped him.

"Give us the girl, Tyler," he said.

The southern man shrugged. "Here yah go. There's not much left in her, though. Think we've done a good job there." The man holding Maggie, shoved her forwards, causing the poor girl to stumble and fall in front of them.

Chibs hurried to help her to her feet, and to get a closer look, and it wasn't pretty. She was crying, and he didn't blame her.

"Nice workin' with yah, boys," Tyler said as he turned. "Have a real nice day." Within five minutes, all his men had settled into the cars, and as they drove away, Chibs looked after them, after the black cars, in one of which Hailey was sitting.

The girl tried to say something through the gag, and as the cars had driven out of sight, Chibs hurried to pull the piece of fabric from her mouth. "Hailey!" she cried. "T-they t-took her! How c-could you l-let them d-do that?!"

Jax kneeled beside her. "Maggie? I'm Jax, this is Chibs, and these guys are our brothers. We're the Sons of Anarchy, and you're safe now."


	27. Do More Than Survive

**A/N: **My dearest readers! This story is coming to its end. There are only a couple of chapters left (try two, or three, tops) and it surely turned out to be much, _much_ longer than I anticipated it to be! At present, the word count on Word is +120k (200 pages) and it's just insane to think that I started this less than three months ago.. and, I LOVE YOU GUYS! It's all because of you! You've kept me going! Really, you have! So, kudos to you! :D

Right! So, once again, I've used **The Dresden Dolls'** song _Good Day_ as my title and quote (because it's an awesome song, of course). Go listen to it! Again, and again, and again, and again! :D

And now, please,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

"_I'd like to do more than survive; I'd like to rub it in your face."  
_— _Good Day, The Dresden Dolls_

At least, they hadn't raped the girl. But that had to be the only thing they hadn't done to her. Tara had been called in, and due to the delicacy of the matter, they would rather not go to the hospital, even though that would be the best.

"She's got several wounds that need stitching," Tara said lowly to Jax and Chibs, "and I'm pretty sure she'd got one or several fractured ribs. Poor girl… I don't wanna know what they did to her."

"Whatever it is, it might happen to Hailey know," Jax sighed.

Chibs determinedly shook his head. "No, she'd too valuable fer 'em. They wanted te make sure Hailey would give herself up. All we can do is put our trust in tha' French fed."

Jax clenched his jaw. "Yeah…"

Tara nodded. "Chibs, I'll need your help."

"Aye, sure." They entered the room where the girl, Maggie, was waiting. She looked like shit, Chibs had to admit that. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the wall as he watched Tara do her thing.

"Maggie, this is Chibs," Tara said. "He's the one who's been keeping Hailey. That's the one you should talk to."

She looked at him, with one good eye, and nodded. "You know Hailey?"

"Aye," Chibs nodded.

Maggie's chest started to move faster. "Did you guys keep her hostage?"

Chibs furrowed his brows, but it was Tara that did the talking; "No, they didn't. They care about her. They helped her. Just like they will help you."

The girl huffed, but hissed as she put a hand over her ribs. "Right; and what dogs are you gonna throw me to, huh? I'm already chewed up and spit out. I'll be an easy one, right?"

Tara looked at Chibs, and he looked back. None of them knew what to say. The girl didn't know any details about it all, and coming from someone like Tyler, it would be strange if she trusted them all right away. A bit of bite was to be expected.

Tara sighed. "I know you're angry, and hurt and—"

"Try 'humiliated' and 'worried'!" Maggie spat. "If you all _care_ so much about Hailey, you should never have let her go to that pig!"

"She did tha' on her own," Chibs said. "When she knew they had ye she wanted it done as soon as possible. There was nothin' we could do about it."

"Bullshit," Maggie growled. "You could have stopped her. Do you have any idea what that bastard's like?!"

"You should lay down," Tara frowned. "Distressing like this will do your ribs no good."

"I don't fucking care about my ribs!" Maggie cried. "You've gotta go back there! You've gotta get Hailey!"

"She knows wha' she's doin'," Chibs sighed. "Everythin's planned. Not tha' ye'd get kidnapped… but the rest. She knows wha' she's doin'."

"Are you fucking insane?" Maggie asked as she pulled her brows together. "_Planned_?! You _planned_ that she would give herself to that fucking asshole?!"

"There's more te this than ye know," Chibs continued. "Ye simply have te trust me when I tell ye tha' she'll be fine."

Maggie set her jaw tight and didn't answer. Instead she huffed and looked at him. "You need to tell me something; did you kill her parents? Did you kill our professor? Did _she_? I need some fucking answers. I've taken a fucking beating; I deserve to know!"

Chibs shook his head. "No, love, we did nothin'. Hailey didn' do it. Tyler did. He did 'em all."

"Right, and you let her go to him?" She sounded like broken record, but Chibs didn't blame her. Coming into a situation like this, the way she had and at the time, she had the right to be angry and worried and full of questions in need of answers. But Chibs couldn't give them to her.

"You need to lay down," Tara repeated. "I'll try to get you into a hospital."

**¤(SoA)¤**

Everything was so fucking clean and stylish, it sickened her. Chibs kept things clean, but this was just… sick. She was sitting in a living-room, watching a big flat screen TV, some documentary on spiders. She had three of Tyler's men watching her, all dressed in suits. It looked uncomfortable and incredibly stupid. They had handed her a glass of whatever beverage she desired, and treated her like royalty, which she found most repulsive. She tried to guess which one of those guys who had bashed Maggie's face in, because she doubted Tyler would do that himself. The man had been locked inside his office, and she was apparently _waiting_ for him.

She had gotten to the part where the female spider decided to eat the male during their mating act, when the door to his office opened and another man in suit said that, "Mr. Tyler will see you now, Miss Reed." With a deep and dissatisfied sigh she rose and rolled her eyes. The three men followed. When she entered she found Maretta in the corner. They exchanged looks, and though they were subtle, Hailey could tell that things were working according to plan. She found Tyler behind a desk; the man had dark, combed hair with silver strands running from his temples, and his chin was clean shaved. He seemed to be in his fifties—mid-fifties, maybe. His teeth were white, and there was that air of him, that told of an attitude towards women that Hailey did not like. He thought he was the King of the World, and that Hailey would just fall under his spell, spread her legs for him and beg him to fuck her hard. Well, she would not.

"Miss Reed," he said, his mouth quirking into a smirk. "So, we finally meet. I'm delighted."

"Trust me, the pleasure is all yours," she said with a sarcastic smile, but she had decided to keep calm and keep her head cool. She would not let a bastard like Tyler bring her down.

He chuckled and took a sip from a copper colored liquid and settled his eyes on her. "You've hid very well, I've gotta give it to yah, darlin'. But, ya know, I'm a man of power. I get what I want in the end. I always do."

"Seems so," Hailey said, while she kept thinking, _you have no fucking idea_.

He placed his elbows on his desk and knitted his fingers and glared at her over his hands, eyed her, lingered for a moment over her chest before continuing. When he straightened, he said, "would y'all leave us?"

The others rose to leave, and Hailey had to struggle not to show how much she wanted Maretta to stay. But she left, too, and when the door closed, she was alone with Craig Tyler. He rose from his seat, with a much worrying smirk, as he made his way around the desk and leaned back against it in front of her and crossed his arms.

"Ya know, Miss Reed," he started, his voice now lower than it was before, smoother, more poisonous, "this whole deal's had me on my toes for a long time now. I don't like that." He eyed her again, and again lingering on her chest. "But, I'm not the only one sufferin' from this now, am I? I mean, you've lost some things, too."

She clenched her jaw, struggling not to spit on him and kick him in the nuts. She would have to be strong. She would have to compose herself. She couldn't fuck this up.

He leaned forwards, and the reek of his cologne hit her nose like a baseball bat. "Well, aren't you a peach? I get why Reins wanted to fuck you bad. Ya know, he had this nice little collection of pictures of yah on his phone. He's been workin' hard, alright! I mean, there's picture of ya with your friends, when you're alone, when you're in the shower… bet he pulled his dick to those every fuckin' day."

Feeling how her cheeks burned from both anger and embarrassment, she clenched her jaw even tighter, to the point where her teeth might crack, and crossed her arms.

He chuckled and left the desk to wander about the room. "Thing is, I would've love to give ya to him, ya know. He was a faithful ally. He was a good man. Too bad he went and fucked things up like givin' ya those documents in the first place. Really, this whole thing is _his_ fault, right? So, ya know, I couldn't keep him." He went back to the desk to grab his glass and took a sip. "Your parents were a bit unnecessary though, I can admit to that." He shrugged his shoulders and gave a face that said that he couldn't give a shit less. "But, what the hell. Consider them as… unfortunate casualties."

_Unfortunate casualties_… she let the words roll around in her head and the more she thought about the words, the more she hated the man.

"Now, your friend," he continued and came back to lean on the desk—this time right in front of her, so that she was in eye level with his crotch, which he took full notice, and advantage, of. "Oh, she was a little peach, as well. But, dontcha worry, I didn't violate her. No, I'm not that kinda man, ya know. Besides, she looked like a little Jew. Would've been a delight to kill, though. But, live bait has always been much more effective, and look where we are! Now, I say that's a darn good idea, isn't it?"

She didn't answer and looked past him. She did not want to give him, or his crotch, any attention.

But he grabbed her chin and forcefully pulled her face to meet his. "Isn't it?"

Unable to contain herself anymore, she worked up some saliva in her mouth and shot it in his face. It hit him in the eye, and he hissed as he released his grip of her chin and straightened. She watched as he wiped his eye from her spit and shook his head slowly. Then, in one fast and swift movement, he let the backside of his hand fly across her face, and a stinging pain spread across her face and she gasped and covered her face with her hands. He once against started to pace the room.

"Ya know," he said, this time aggressively yet arrogantly, "I'm not that very patient. You've already pulled my strings, sweetheart. But now, ya see, the tables are turned. I'm pullin' your strings now. You're in _my_ mercy. I can do whatever I want with your sweet butt. And you know what we're doin' first?"

She suddenly felt his hands on her shoulders, and she stiffened. They were squeezing her, rubbing her, and slowly, she felt how his hands slithered down to her front. Frozen in place, she couldn't do a thing about it, and she lost her breath as she felt his hands cup her breasts. Slowly yet forcefully, he started to rub them and squeeze, and she could feel his heavy breath on her neck, and she felt the panic rise in her chest. Was he going to rape her, then and there? Was he really going to do that? And worst of all, was the sensation of being completely passive and immobile. She couldn't do a thing. She couldn't move, she couldn't scream. She was completely left in his mercy, and she had never before felt so helpless. His hands squeezed harder and harder for every second, and in the end, it actually hurt, and after what felt like an eternity, he pulled the hands away and chuckled, and Hailey could start to breathe again, now with a raging fury inside of her.

But he continued as if nothing had happened. "First, we are takin' the first plane out of here, to Switzerland." He went to open the door to call for someone, and Hailey quickly scanned the room. Was there anything she could use? A letter opener? A shoehorn? Anything? Before she could even rise from the chair, Tyler had returned to his seat behind the desk. "We'll leave tomorrow mornin'. Marcus here will show you to your room."

A younger man stepped forth, and extended a hand for Hailey to take. She ignored it as she rose and left the room with hurried steps, her fists tightened. Oh, how she wanted to bash that pig's face in! But, if she only kept her cool, everything would be just fine.

She was led to a nice room. It had a king-sized bed in the middle of it, with a flat screen TV on the wall and a mini fridge underneath a long counter that followed a mirror. It looked like a luxurious hotel room, and she had a feeling it actually was one. She went to the window and looked out. Sacramento. That's where she was. She remembered when they drove past the sign. While looking out, she carefully massaged her sore breasts; it would definitely bruise later on. That filthy, nasty pig. Oh, how she would rejoice in seeing him bleed. Maybe even by the hands of Chibs… or was that too selfish? But she surely _would_ like to see his face if he ever leant to know what Tyler had done to her. Feeling restless, she turned on the TV, put on VH1 and was extremely happy when they had old eighties rock classics as theme, and she immediately started to blow off some steam by doing push-ups, sit-ups and high knee sprinting. It was working.

An hour later, she fell onto the bed, exhausted, but exhilarated. Things were going according to plan, and her own plan was falling to place, as well. All she had to do was to make sure to convince Tyler that he couldn't leave without the codes, and that the codes were in a safe place. That was where the bomb came into the picture; of course Tyler would give anything to get that money, if that meant getting those goddamn codes. He had to believe her, because she didn't bring the codes with her now, did she? So then Juice would place out the bomb where she'd asked him to—she only needed a phone to make the call, but Maretta would surely help her with that, somehow—and when Tyler would go to get them, because surely he wouldn't entrust anyone else with documents worth billions of dollars, it would all go boom. She found herself smiling at the thought of seeing the bastard blown to pieces, and she couldn't help but to picture his face instead of the Butcher's face, half blown off. It was soothing, somehow, even though she knew it was slightly mentally insane. Maybe she was going a bit insane… who wouldn't, given the circumstances?

**¤(SoA)¤**

He'd been on the look-out for almost a week now, and yet, there was nothing. Nothing that he could bring to the table. Nothing he could bring to the Sons. Nothing. All he'd found out was that Craig Tyler was a businessman, owning half a dozen successful hotels around America, earning millions, all in white money. But Eli knew there was more to the man. He had just been real sneaky about it. Things _suggested_ that he'd partaken in criminal activities, but there were no proof. Things _suggested _that he had contact with some of the largest crime syndicates around the word, but again, no proof. He had nothing.

He was spending his second day down in the state archives, where he tried to find _something_ on the man, because thank God, he was from LA. But again, there was nothing.

An old archivist, boarding on retirement, wandered about the rooms, with a notepad in his hand and a pencil constantly tapping against his lips as he hummed a song.

Eli had watched the man for a couple of minutes before he decided to speak up. "Excuse me, sir?" The man turned, and Eli went forwards to greet him. "Lieutenant Eli Roosevelt. I could need your help, sir. I'm looking for some information about a certain man."

The old man looked curious. "Oh, and who might that be?"

"His name is Craig Jonathan Tyler," Eli said, slowly, so that the old man could catch it and write it down on his notepad. "Businessman, hotel owner. Is originally from Los Angeles."

The old man scribbled down the name while mumbling to himself. "Yeah, I think I know who you're talking about." He left for another room, and Eli followed. The man browsed through a catalogue on the computer, and after a while, he left to return with a thick book with birth certificates. "Craig Tyler changed his name twenty years ago. I think he'd had some trouble abroad, or something like that, or if he changed his name abroad, or… oh, I don't know! He was named Clarence Jonah Thatcher before."

Eli stared at the documents, astonished, and it took him several moments before he could form words. "But… why isn't this in the public archives?"

"He didn't want it to be published," said the old man with a shrug. "Paid a lot of money for it, I suppose. Anyways, that's your man. Happy searching, Lieutenant."

As the old man walked away to continue tapping the pencil against his lips while humming, Eli wrote down everything on that document. When he later browsed on the new name in the public archives, a whole new storm of information swept over him. There were smuggle charges, violation charges, money laundering charges, charges of blackmailing, plans of terrorism, incitement to racial hatred… the list was long, and all of those charges had somehow magically disappeared as he changed his name. He certainly must have paid a _lot_ of money for that to happen, but it seemed to be less expensive to buy a clean name than to clean his own. No matter; this was what he needed. This was more than enough to bring him down.

**¤(SoA)¤**

When morning came, Hailey was woken up eight in the morning. The plane was leaving in two hours, and she had a nice, black pencil suit laid out for her at the foot of her bed. She took a shower, dressed and went out of her room to be greeted by one of the men in suit. He took her to a dining room, where Tyler was sitting by a table, eating his breakfast together with Maretta and a man whom Hailey did not recognize. She was invited to sit down with them, and she did.

"Slept well?" Tyler asked as he took a sip of his coffee.

Hailey didn't answer and poured herself a cup.

"I'm glad to see the clothes fitted yah," he continued. "You oughta look nice for what we're gonna do. Tomorrow, we'll meet with the bankers at Gerster Capital, and I do not want ya to look like some white trash slut."

She had to struggle not to give a snarly comeback to that, and gave instead a sarcastic smile. She took a sip from her coffee before she inhaled and started, "I suppose it's the money you want from Gerster Capital. And if so, I have to tell you, that you will need the original documents." All three of them stopped in mid motion to look at her. Maretta looked confused, and so did the other man, but Tyler looked enraged. Hailey continued, "you might have noticed that I didn't bring the codes with me. You see, I'm not stupid. I knew this would happen, eventually, and then I did what you never did; I made sure to keep the original codes safe. But the original documents are needed in order to get the money." She was just pulling words out of her ass at this moment, but anything to get the man curious—and desperate enough to buy her lie. "I have the original copies, in a safe place. All you need to do is to go at get them. I just need one thing from you?"

Tyler set his jaw firm. "And what is that, sweetheart?"

"That you leave Charming alone," she said determinedly. "That you leave the Sons of Anarchy alone."

He chuckled. "You've taken a likin' to those thugs, haven't ya?"

She raised a brow. "Maybe I have. You want the money or not?"

"Sir," Maretta suddenly cut in. "We have the codes."

Hailey snapped my head at Maretta. What the hell was she doing?! "No, you don't."

Maretta turned her head to Hailey, a chilling and superior expression on her face. "Yes, we do." She then turned back to Tyler. "I let Daniel and Rick search through both the apartment and the club house as the trade was being made." Lie. "They found them in a drawer in the Scotsman's apartment. That's how _safely _she'd hidden them."

Hailey stared at the woman. She was completely destroying it all!

Tyler laughed. "That's why I'd rather trust you, my dear Maretta, than anyone else." He then sighed and called for a Marcus, the same young man that had shown Hailey to her room. "Any updates?"

"Yes, sir," Marcus said. "Unfortunately, you can't enter the country. They have you on watch, and are ready to arrest you once you step your foot on Swiss ground."

Hailey looked at Maretta. It was all falling to pieces! Maretta looked just as surprised.

Tyler seemed deep in thought before he nodded. "Thank you, Marcus. Maretta," he looked at the woman, "you'll have to go instead. Nathan here will come with you."

The other man by the table nodded.

"You know what is to be done," Tyler continued, "and you know what to do afterwards." Maretta nodded, and Tyler rose from the table. "Now, if you excuse me, I have a couple of phone calls to make. Now, hurry, before you miss your flight."

From that point, it all went very fast. Hailey was seated in a car together with Maretta and this man called Nathan, and together, they drove to the airport. In the car, Maretta handed her a passport.

"This is your new identity for the time being," she said, and suddenly, there was a smile on her face, "Miss Amanda Hayes."

Hailey gasped. How could she know that? And why did she say it, with one of Tyler's closest by the wheel?!

Maretta dismissed her worried face. "Don't you worry. Nathan isn't going to tell, are you, Nathan?"

"No, captain," said the man with a smirk.

"He works for me," she said to Hailey. "It's a complicated web you've ended up in. Now, this didn't work out the way we wanted, but we'll have to make the best of it. At least now you get to move the money away from the accounts."

"Why the hell did you tell him about the codes?!" Hailey exploded.

Maretta sighed, her smile now gone. "Look, I don't know what you're planning, but it wasn't involved in _our_ plan, and therefore, we can't risk it. Sorry."

Annoyed, yet relieved, she crossed her arms and leaned back. She wouldn't get to blow Craig Tyler into pieces, he wouldn't be arrested by the Swiss government and this whole thing wouldn't be over once the money had been moved, but at least, she was free from that slimy bastard, and now, another plan was starting to form in her head, something that she had to admit was much, much more attractive.

**¤(SoA)¤**

He'd had a sleepless night. Very sleepless. He had tossed and turned the whole night, thinking about Hailey. What would happen to her? What would Tyler do to her? He wanted to believe that she was a strong girl, that she would make it, that she would come back, and they would live happily ever after. Not that a 'happily ever after' would ever apply for Chibs' life, but he could at least get the closest possible, right? But at present, that seemed very distant, because no matter how much he wanted to think of her as strong, he knew that it wouldn't matter how strong she was; she would still be in the same mess with the same chances.

Hailey's friend, Maggie, had been in pain the whole evening and night. Tara had insisted on taking her to the hospital, and arranged the whole thing by talking to her boss, that Murphy lady. They had been real sneaky about it, and done all the necessary paperwork for her. At least, Chibs thought, she was off his hand. Though he understood her hostility, he wasn't really in a good place to in any way accept them, and he did not want to shout at the girl who'd already been through enough. And, he couldn't really blame her for Hailey's departure; it was coming sooner or later, and maybe it was for the best to have it done with. Hopefully, that French fed would hold on to her word and get Hailey back safe. If not, Chibs knew whose name was next on his black list—a list whose names one after one turned red.

The next morning, Chibs was anything but rested, and yet he was wide awake. He couldn't sit still for five minutes and always had to do something, whether it was mending his bike or bashing away on the punching bag. By afternoon that day, Roosevelt stopped by. The whole shop came to a halt, and almost surrounded the man. But he came in peace. And to be honest, Chibs was burning with curiosity.

"What are you doing here?" Jax asked as he greeted the police officer.

"I have some info you might like to take a look at," Roosevelt said.

"Yeah?" Jax asked and looked at his fellow brothers and then back at Roosevelt. "And what is that?"

"It's a little something on a man called Craig Tyler." Roosevelt did not detain anything, it seemed. Cards on the table, right away.

Jax pulled his brows together. "What?"

"A report of a missing woman landed on my office," Roosevelt started. "My head department told me to report to a Craig Tyler if I found out anything about the girl's whereabouts. Thing is, this Tyler-guy's got half my force on payroll; I don't trust the fucker. _Then_," he continued, "when I came here last, I saw the woman. In your window. And before you deny it; I know what I saw. It was her. But, you know what," he held up a palm in surrender, "even though I don't accept what you guys do, I respect you. You wouldn't kidnap a woman, I know that. Only one probability thing left, then; you were protecting her. And I wanna help." He handed over a brown envelope to Jax. "Do what you want with that info. It's not anything served on a silver plate, but consider this as my way of helping. I don't know how that info got into your hands, and I won't be responsible for what you do with it. Personally, I have enough info to arrest him, on the behalf of the Department of Justice. Anything you boys wanna add?" He looked over the Sons, his eyes lingering some at Chibs, and then returned to Jax. "Then I guess that was all."

As the Sheriff left, Jax tore the envelope open and pulled out a heap of papers. It was criminal charges for a Jonah Thatcher, and at the back, they found a proof of name change. Jonah Thatcher to Craig Tyler. Amongst the papers was also the full list of his co-operation connections. The Albanian mob, the Japanese, the Italian… they were all there.

"What is it?" Juice asked wide-eyed.

"That," Tig said as he cracked up in a triumphant smile, "that's blackmail material of the finest quality! A one-way ticket for Tyler out of Charming!"

Chibs looked at the papers in Jax's hands, and then after the car. Why had Roosevelt left out the part where Chibs practically gave them away? Right, he thought, the _common goal._


	28. Careful

**A/N: **I'm worn out. It's almost 3AM over here, and I really shouldn't be this late posting the chapter. I even had most of it done already when I started. Something caught my attention, and oops! There went the time. Oh well, it's here now. I'll proof read it some other day. I really need to sleep now. And all you readers and reviewers; I love you.

Quote from _King Nothing_ by **Metallica**. Go listen to it. It's awesome.

Enjoy!

**ADDITIONAL NOTE (added Tuesday 5/2-2013):** The date for the next chapter, which would according to plan be posted tonight, will have to pe postponed until Friday! I am very sorry, but I simply haven't got the time! I have a test on Thursday, and I really need the time to study for it. Anyway, with that said, I am going to promise you a chapter on Friday, and then the last chapter will be posted on Sunday. Yes, the last chapter.

I apologize for this delay and appreciate your patient! Love, peace and understanding!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

"_Careful what you wish, you may regret it, careful what you with, you just might get it."  
_— _King Nothing, Metallica_

"_I don' know if I'm okay with this."_

"_We have no choice. She's my best friend, Chibs. I can't leave her with him, I just can't."_

"_Not even after wha' she did te ye?"_

"_Not even after that."_

"_She's lucky te have ye."_

"_Yeah, right. If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't be in this mess."_

"_An' if it wasn' fer _her_, _you _wouldn' be in this mess!"_

"_We don't know that." _

"_Tha' wha' I believe."_

"_It isn't what I believe. Look, you really don't have to worry. We knew it would all come to this eventually. I'm ready now. I trust Maretta. I need to do this, Chibs! I need to… for my parents, for Maggie, for Juice, for Mr. Reins, for you, for me, for _us_! I need to do this. There's no going back for me now. You have to trust me."_

"_Alrigh'. If yer sure."_

"_I am. And I need your support in this."_

"_Aye. Ye have it. I trust ye. But don' ye dare die, ye hear me? I'm all set on this marriage-thing now. Got me all worked up fer tha' house an' all…"_

"_Haha, right!"_

"_I mean it! I might never—or _will _never—find a lass as good lookin' as you! Better take the chance when it's here, not stand watchin' as it flutters by."_

"_If you say so!"_

"… _I love ye. I really do."_

"_I love you too." _

Their conversation from last night still echoed in his head as he tried to sleep. But the bed seemed too empty for that. He said that he trusted her, and he did. He just didn't trust Tyler. He didn't fully trust that Maretta; how could he know she wasn't just another one after the money? There were no certainties, and it frightened him. All he could think of was that last night they had spent together, him and Hailey. He thought about how they had told each other that they loved each other, and he thought about how her lips had felt against his, how her body had felt against his and that he might never feel it again. It pained him. It angered him. He _was _all set on this marriage-thing, because the more he had thought about it, the more logical it seemed. He loved her, he wanted to be with her, and if she didn't care about the age difference, then why should he? They were both adults. They could do whatever they wanted. Besides, he could protect her, he could stand by her, he could help her. He could be there for her, the way he couldn't be there for her now.

But in order for that to be a possible future, she had to survive this whole thing. Sure enough, Roosevelt had did his part, and he had gathered enough information to put that bastard away for good, since planned terrorism was amongst the charges. Jax had called him again shortly after his visit, and as far as Chibs understood, there had been an agreement settled between the Sheriff and the President, and the main priority from both sides was to protect the people of Charming. Chibs only priority in the case, really, was to protect Hailey. He still remembered the look in her eyes as she told him that she had to do it. He still remembered the strength and the determination that radiated from them, and he simply couldn't deny her it. This was her choice, and hopefully, this would be her closure. If Roosevelt pulled through, if he could get his request for arrest approved by the Department of Justice, this would all be over. Hailey would be free from Tyler and his tyranny. Chibs would get her back.

Or would he? Suddenly, he started to doubt. He had to review the facts; Hailey was a beautiful, smart twenty-four-year-old with the entire world at her feet, and if she made it out of this alive, she would be five billion dollars richer. Why would she want to tie herself to someone like Chibs? Why would she ever want to return to a place like Charming, a place that did everything but live up to its name? He knew he would. If he was in her shoes, he would get as far away as possible from Charming and the Sons of Anarchy. No matter how much he wished her to come back, he wouldn't blame her if she never did. However, if she did, he would never let her go.

**¤(SoA)¤**

The flight was long and tedious, but when they arrived at the airport in Zürich after changing flights in Frankfurt, Hailey couldn't help but to be more awake and ready than ever. She was excited. First of all; she had never been to Switzerland. To be fairly honest, this was the first European country, except for Ireland, that she'd ever been to. Second of all; she was going to meet with Mark Pertille, meet the man in person and get to shout at him for being so secretive about all this. He surely knew all about Maretta's plan of bringin Tyler to Zürich, and Hailey was just a jack on the board.

They were greeted on the airport by a car and a very friendly driver. They were then taken to a hotel where they had an hour to get ready. They were meeting with Pertille for lunch, to settle the details and then they were to go to the bank directly after.

As Hailey entered her room, she thought the big bed looked inviting enough, but she had more important things to do than sleep. Heading to the phone, she dialed the number to Juice. It would be in the middle of the night back in the US, but she didn't care things needed to be settled, and fast.

At first, it didn't seem like he was going to pick up, when she heard the click, and then a much hoarse voice, "_hello?_"

"Juice, it's me. Hailey."

"_What?_" He sighed and yawned before he seemed a bit more awake. "_Hailey? Are you okay? Where are you?_"

"I'm in Zürich right now. Look, there's been a change of plans."

He sighed again. "_Um… okay? Wait, what? Hang on, I don't—where are you again?_"

She rolled her eyes. "Zürich."

"_Right… is Tyler there? Has he been arrested?_"

"No, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," she said. "He was warned, just as we were to leave for the airport. Seems like he's got insiders here. But he sent Maretta and this Nathan—he's cool, he's a Swiss agent—to take me here, so I'm alright. We're gonna move the money."

"_Right. What about the bomb?_"

"About the bomb…" She took a deep breath. "I need you to meet me on Sacramento airport in two days. With the bomb."

He was silent for a moment. "_What?_"

She closed her eyes. "Look, Juice, I need this. Have you got what I asked you for?"

"_Yeah, about that_," he huffed, "_we got fucking lucky. While it was practically impossible to find it, Roosevelt came in with all this shit dug up on the guy! He changed his name. But I've got it now. Everything is set._"

Hailey sighed out in relief. "Good. Thank you. Really, I mean it. Now, all I need from you is to meet me on the airport and give me that bomb. Could you do that?"

He sighed deeply. "_Yeah, sure. What are you gonna do with it?_"

"Can't tell you."

"_Why not?_"

"Because I don't wanna drag you down with me."

Again, he was silent for a moment. "_Look, whatever you're planning on doing; think it through, real hard. How will it affect you? How will it affect the people around you?_"

"Juice, don't worry. I've got this under control."

"_Right, well, if you say so_." He did not sound convinced, but rather tired and sad. "_Hey, give Chibs a call, let him know you're alright. He says he believes in you, but the man's falling to pieces_."

"How… how's Maggie?"

"_Pissed_," Juice huffed, "_but she'll be alright. Tara's taking care of her. Jax let her talk to Roosevelt. She seemed to like that. She worries about you, too_."

"Tell her I'll be fine," Hailey said. "Right, well, sorry I woke you up. But remember; Sacramento airport. Two days. The plane lands around seven thirty in the morning. We were supposed to land around eleven, but Tyler will be waiting, so we decided to take an early plane. He will notice we're not there when we're supposed to, and know we screwed him over. I need you to be there with the bomb when we land, not tomorrow but the day after that. Can you do it?"

"_I already said I can_," Juice muttered, annoyance in his voice.

"Right, good, sorry," she mumbled. "Thank again, and sorry. Good night."

"_Take care, Hailey_."

They hung up, and Hailey had to take a deep breath before she rose to go into the bathroom to freshen up. An hour later, she was sitting on a very nice restaurant together with Maretta and Nathan. They hadn't spoken that much, more than a few words about what would happen once they returned to America, and Maretta complained about Pertille being late.

But they didn't wait all too long, before a rather tall man in his mid-thirties entered, with dark blonde, combed hair and clean shaved chin joined them. He gave his sincere apologies for being late and introduced himself as Mark Pertille.

"Miss Hayes, I presume?" he asked as he reached his hand out for Hailey.

She was a bit shocked, though; he was very handsome, with brightly blue eyes and an intelligence of him that she had seldom found in other people. She had to compose herself before she could shake the man's hand. "Mark Pertille, I presume?"

He chuckled. "Yes. I see that you all get along nicely. That's very good. Now, to get straight to the point." Pertille pulled out a file from his suitcase and placed it on the table. "Miss Hayes, have you solved the code I gave you last?"

She nodded. "I don't have my notes with me, though, but if you have the numbers, I'll solve it for you here."

"I thought as much," he said as he pulled out a paper and handed her a pen.

The process was fast, since she now knew exactly what to do and how to do it, and she couldn't help but to feel slightly pleased by the thought that the banker seemed very impressed by her deciphering skills.

The lunch was pleasant, and for a change, the conversations about money, Tyler and what would happen next were very few, and instead they focused on the food, on Switzerland, on the flight… those normal things that normal people talked about on normal occasions, and it was a very welcomed change. Though, Hailey could barely concentrate on anything else but the banker's blue eyes, and it made her worried; if she could feel this way towards another man—a man she barely knew!—then was Chibs really the right for her? She listened to the banker, and all he said seemed so wise, so intelligent, and his voice was calm, just like she remembered it over the phone, and that French accent was actually really cute. But it wasn't Chibs' raw, Scottish accent, and it wasn't Chibs' husky tone, and it wasn't Chibs' brooding eyes… relief filled her as she realized that the banker would never beat Chibs. He simply didn't have it. But she was rather glad she wouldn't have to be around the banker all too long; she might find traits that she simply couldn't let go of.

Their stay in Zürich was rather short. When they'd done their business at the bank, and when Hailey had arranged the many billion dollars as she pleased—still within Gerster Capital, though—Mark Pertille invited them for dinner, and as much as Hailey would very much like to dine with the man, she couldn't She was on the verge of fainting out of lack of sleep—the jetlag had really started to get to her—and had to retire to her hotel room. Nathan followed her as far as the hotel, and there they parted, giving Hailey an opportunity to get some things that she would need upon her return. When she had purchased what she needed, she returned to the hotel and went straight to bed. She slept like a baby through the whole night, and the next morning, they were invited for breakfast with Pertille. Hailey was a bit skeptical to see him, though. The less of him, the better, and the sooner she got back to Chibs, the _even _better. But the breakfast past very pleasantly. He wished them a nice flight, and told Hailey that she had his number, and that he would help her to the best of his abilities no matter what her request was. She trusted him, because he had proved to be a man of his words, even though his way of executing such things were a bit questionable. But he did pull through.

The flight back was long—eighteen hours, including two hours in London—and when they landed at the Sacramento airport, seven thirty-seven in the morning, right on schedule. She met with Juice. He was nervous, but he had the suitcase, and it looked fantastic.

"You're my hero," she smiled as she pressed her lips against his cheeks. At first she regretted it, but as he didn't seem affected by it, she decided it was alright. "It looks beautiful!"

"And just as dangerous," he said lowly. "You sure you wanna do this?"

"One hundred percent," Hailey nodded, her face stern.

"Is that your ride?" Maretta asked.

Hailey turned to her and nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, Miss Reed," Maretta said and she walked up to her. "This is where we part. I don't think it will be the last time I see you, though." She reached her hand out for Hailey to shake, and she took it. Just as Maretta was to turn back, though, Juice spoke up.

"Um, Miss Chalvais?"

"Mrs," Maretta said and turned. "Mrs. Chalvais."

Juice nodded, embarrassed. "Mrs. Chalvais… um, I thought you should know that Tyler is no longer untouchable on American ground." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a note. "That's a copy of his birth certificate. His real one, the one's that's filled with the good stuff. The Department of Justice has received the same one. Though you might want to know."

Maretta stared at the paper for a while, a great surprise playing across her face, which soon turned to a burning determination. She looked up and nodded. "Thank you. Nathan! Get the General on the line! Back in the boys. We're going. Now!" The two agents moved fast, as Hailey and Juice was left.

Hailey looked at Juice. "We need to go. Now."

Juice pulled his brows together. "Why? Is there something you need to do?"

"Yeah," Hailey nodded. "And we don't have much time. I don't know how long it will take for Maretta to arrange the arrest, and Tyler will arrive here in about four hours." She suddenly pulled out a brown wig and a pair of sunglasses from a handbag she was carrying. "There's stuff we really need to do, and we don't have much time. Now, come on!"

**¤(SoA)¤**

Disloyalty. If there was something that could make his blood boil, it was disloyalty. He hated people that betrayed him. He hated it. He had a habit of killing the people that betrayed him, and it gave him no greater pleasure. And now, he surely would find Maretta, and he would kill her. First, he would fuck her—oh, how he had longed to do that—and then he would kill her. Or kill her while fucking her? He thought of ways to get rid of the bitch on the way back from the airport. Had Maretta stepped off the plane from Zürich with Nathan and the girl? No. No, she had not. In fact, none of the three little fuckers stepped off the plane from Zürich at that time. He had waited, and waited, but they weren't there. He'd asked his associates in Zürich, and they had confirmed that they left Switzerland at the right time, but somewhere, it had gone wrong. Did they change planes somewhere else? A six-hour-wait in Amsterdam, that was settled. He'd even booked a nice penthouse for them to spend those six fucking hours, but did they check in? No, because they didn't fucking land in Amsterdam! And was the codes that Maretta had left in his office the right ones? No! It was blank fucking papers! _Blank fucking papers_! He could barely contain himself. He was so angry. And when he got hold of that little redhead pussy… oh, he wouldn't kill her. No. He would torture her. He would shackle naked in a cold and damn basement and leave her there. He would let his men go down there when they felt like it and use the little cunt as they wished. That was what he was going to do with her.

Death seemed too merciful. He just knew all this was her idea. She had been far too calm and composed while being with him. He had touched her, to test her. He wanted her to scream, he wanted her to growl, but she did nothing. She just sat there and let him do it. Of course, there was always that possibility that she enjoyed it, but she didn't seem like the type. No, she was too composed. Cold. Almost like a stone. When he found her, he would break her. He would break her down to bits and pieces, and he would piss on them. That was what he would do if he ever caught that little fucking bitch.

At the top of the office building, he stepped out of the elevator, fixing his tie as he did. Clive and Dan were behind him, walking past him to open the door to the penthouse. Brian and Marcus were inside, greeting him politely as he entered. But they both seemed nervous. Craig saw the sweat drops on Marcus' forehead. He narrowed his eyes. "Marcus, is there somethin' I oughta know? Are ya to tell me that Lady fucking Maretta has skinned me naked?"

Marcus swallowed. "There… there was someone here looking for you, sir. A woman. She didn't tell us her name, she didn't tell us what she wanted. She… she left you something."

Craig clenched his jaw. He was surrounded by idiots, and at times like these, that was never a good thing. "Ya let a woman into my headquarters? _Now_?!"

"We checked her!" Marcus gasped. "She had no guns, she wasn't bugged! It wasn't Hailey Reed! It wasn't Maretta Chalvais! We had a guard check the premises, it was all good!"

"What did she look like?"

"Um," Marcus started, but Craig was impatient and rolled his eyes. "She had brow hair! Thing, lush hair! Not as tall as Maretta."

"Fine, fine," Craig growled, tired of hearing Marcus' sorry excuse of a description. "What did she bring?"

"She brought a suitcase," Marcus breathed.

Before Craig had time to answer, his phone rang. Annoyed and with a sudden headache, he flipped it open. "Yeah?"

"_Is this Mr. Craig Tyler?_" The voice was sweet, yet venomous.

"Yes, this is he. Who am I talking to?"

"_This is Miss Hailey Reed_."

He clenched his jaw.

"_Don't blame your poor door man; he couldn't possibly know how creative I could be now, could he? But you can._"

"What the fuck do you want? Where the fuck are ya? When I find you, you will wish you weren't born!"

"_I am aware that you and I haven't had the best of relationships, Craig, but I must say that despite all, I have a deep respect for you. But, as you know, I've grown to care for the Sons of Anarchy. Now, I know you want Charming as one of your developments, but both you and I know that it won't happen that easily. I also know that what you want for leaving the town alone, is that money._"

Craig clenched his jaw so tightly, his teeth might crack. "You're a smart gal, Hailey. Don't do anythin' stupid now."

"_Oh, but Mr. Tyler, I'm never stupid. Inside you office, there's a metal suitcase. Inside the suitcase, you have the bank accounts. The real account numbers, you have my word._"

He rose. "Why would ya give 'em up?"

"_You killed my mother_," she stated coldly yet professionally. "_You killed my father. You killed my professor. You tried to kill my fiancé and his family. You kidnapped my best friend and bashed her face in. I know what you are capable of, Mr. Tyler. I am neither greedy nor stupid; the money isn't important to me. However, your promise is. So, I can assure you that the codes given to you are the real ones. Though, I made sure to secure my own future financially, as well as my family's, come I have to leave the country and live incognito. But there's still three billion dollars left for you on those accounts_."

With a quick look at the four men surrounding him, Craig marched into his office and locked the door. There, on the desk, lay the silvery suitcase. "How can I know you're tellin' me the truth?"

"_You can't_," she said simply. "_But it's a risk you'll have to take. Now, look underneath the suitcase. You'll find a brown envelope._"

Craig slid the suitcase over, and found the envelope.

"_Inside, there's a bounty_," she continued. "_A price, on your head. One billion dollars for the person who kills you_."

Craig gasped. This wasn't happening, not to him! "You're bluffin'!"

"_Oh, am I? Look outside your office. Are your men still there?_"

Hurriedly, Craig opened the door to peek out. There was no one there. He slammed the door shut, his heart beating faster, out of rage and fear. "You little _bitch_! What did you do?!"

"_Oh, it was easy enough_," she teased. "_Your loyal men weren't all so loyal when they caught the whiff of money… a check each was enough to let me enter and do what I had to. It was even enough to make them leave the two of us alone like this._"

He breathed rapidly. He couldn't believe this was happening to him; Craig _fucking_ Tyler!

"_But don't you worry,_" she purred. "_For now, that contract in your hand, is the only copy. But one press of a button from me, and that bounty will be spread across the world, and to every big crime syndicate around it. Your men will receive it… if they would let me in, and then leave the premises, leave you unguarded, for a mere amount of fifty grand; imagine what they would do for one billion dollars. You won't be able to tell friend from foe; not when your head is worth a fortune._"

He had to sit down. The thought of the Albanians knowing, the Japanese… it made his knees tremble. "Why are you doin' this?" His voice was weak, close to cracking. This was a girl, for God's sake! How the fuck could she had fooled him like this?!

"_I wanted you to feel what I felt,_" she growled lowly, "_to feel what it was like not being able to trust anyone. Not your friends, not your family, not your authorities… no one_."

He slowly closed his eyes, thinking about his wife, his two daughters, his grandson… "Please," he whispered. "I'll leave Charmin' alone, I promise. I'll leave anythin' that has anythin' to do with the Sons of Anarchy. I'll leave you alone, I swear by God."

"_Sounds like a fair promise to me_," she said. "_Though, the bounty isn't your only concern; Maretta Chalvais is, as you probably suspected, not on your side. You have the French intelligence services on their way this very moment. They got an OK from the Department of Justice earlier today, with a little help from a police officer you _didn't _successfully bribe. You should know, Mr. Tyler, that what goes around, comes around. However, even though you have been warned about the police, there is one more thing you should know." _She sighed._ "Together with the documents, I packed heavy explosives, enough to wipe out your whole headquarters, should someone steal it while you were away_."

He widened his eyes and looked at the metal suitcase. Was it… a bomb? "Y-you planted a _bomb_ in my office?"

"_Don't worry_," she said. _"It will only detonate if you open it without deactivating it. Look at the suitcase; it has two locks. One digital and one mechanical. The digital is to deactivate the bomb, and the mechanical is to open the suitcase_."

He examined it. The digital was made out of ten digits, zero to nine, with a small screen above. The mechanical was a regular one with rolling number combinations, five wheels. "How do I deactivate it?"

"_It's your birthday_," she said.

Breathing rapidly, he typed in 19550721, and the numbers showed up on the small screen. Suddenly, there was a beep, and a red light started to blink, and his date of birth was replaced by a big three and to zeroes, and it quickly changed to two fifty-nine, two fifty-eight, two fifty-seven… it was a clock, ticking down with an alarming beeping for every second that passed. "You bitch…" he breathed as he realized he hadn't deactivated the bomb; he'd activated it. "You _fucking _bitch!"

"_Now, now_," she said calmly. "_As you can see, you don't have much time, so don't waste it on petty curses. Did you really think I would let you go that easily? But, I'm not heartless; I will give you a fair chance. You will have the chance to choose life over money. You could get out, you have the time, if you go now and run like hell down the thirty floors, even if it means living in paranoia, constantly looking over your shoulder, now when you have neither criminals nor authorities to turn to. However, should you feel that the greed for money is greater than life, to deactivate the bomb before the clock hits zero, you'll have to find the right number combination on the mechanical lock_." The clock was ticking down. Two twelve, two eleven, two ten… "_There are five numbers, three thousand one hundred and twenty-five combinations, and only one that's correct and will let you live._" There was a pause."_I wish you all luck in the world. Good day, Mr. Tyler._" The line broke, and all he could hear in the phone was the dial signal, the cold and empty dial signal that bore into him like a dagger, an evil, dark dagger. He roughly tossed the phone aside with a growl and panickedly started to fiddle with the numbers, sweat dropping from his forehead. He wouldn't let three billion dollars go to waste, and he wouldn't step outside this office, spending the rest of his life in constant fear. He was sure she was bluffing… no way this bitch could be that smart! He tired combination after combination, four-three-one-five-two… no. One-one-five-three-one… no. Three-two-five-one-four… no.

And the clock was steadily ticking down.


	29. Not With Haste

**A/N: **Dearest readers; I'm SO sorry for the delay! It's the first unplanned delay so far.. but as I explained in an update in the last chapter, I had a test to study for, and I was a bit panicky at the end.. anyways, I took the test yesterday. I think it went pretty well.. anyways, so, here it is, the 29th chapter of 30. Seems a bit unrealistic, really, that we're so close to the end!

Today's quote is from **Mumford and Sons**, of course, with the lovely song _Not With Haste_. Please, go and listen to it, becasue it's really a wonderful song!

I love you all!

Now,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

"_I will love with urgency but not with haste."  
_— _Not With Haste, Mumford and Sons_

From a tall building not very far from Tyler Enterprises, the fireworks were splendid as the mighty building exploded, and on the front row, was Hailey Reed. She watched, with a burning satisfaction, as her plan locked and everything went according to it. Craig Tyler had not escaped the building, and she concluded that amongst all those bits of concrete that came flying, were his remains, shattered and torn and beyond any dignity. She did it. She killed Craig Tyler. She killed the monster that had fucked up her entire life. He had—the dead man—fucked up her life so bad, she had now passed the point of no return. She would never be able to go back to what things were. She had killed two people. She had lied, she had cheated and she had triumphed. Her views of the words were vastly changed, and she blamed it—and owed it—all to Craig Tyler.

Juice had advised her not to do it. He told her it wouldn't end well. He told her she would get caught, but she told him it would be alright. She had it covered.

"What if Tyler's men rat you out?" Juice cried. "Don't do it, Hailey! You'll regret it! He's gonna get time anyway, so why bother?!"

"Because he deserves to die." That was the only thing she'd told him before exiting the car and entered the building, wearing the wig and the shades. That was her driving thought throughout the whole process; _because he deserves to die_. When the young door man opened, and Hailey handed him the check, explaining to him the requirements he and his fellows had to meet to get the money, the only thing she thought about was how much Craig Tyler deserved to die. The pleased smirk had been glued to her face as the men had accepted her demands and let her in to plant the suitcase on Tyler's desk. No one had questioned her. They didn't even question her honor; would she give them the money? As she left the building, she thought it was because they most probably knew who she was, despite the wig and the glasses, and if they did, they most certainly understood why she did what she did. And she had not been lying. She pushed the money through as soon as she finished her call to Tyler, and a minute later, she received the confirmation call from the door man, Marcus, who said that everything was in place. To all this, she had used Juice's phone, and destroyed it afterwards, much to his dismay. She had then promised him that she could buy him any goddamn phone he wanted.

"But I had numbers on that phone," Juice then complained, referring to the number of a very pretty brunette he'd met the other night.

Not long after the boom, Hailey could see Maretta roll into the scene with black cars and police officers after, but they were all very astonished to see the burning building. Hailey had a moment of closure, a moment at satisfaction and peace before she said to Juice that it would be best for them to leave. He did not disagree, and they were soon on their way back to Charming.

Juice talked all the way; he was nervous. But he talked without response, because Hailey sat staring out the window, still feeling the calm and the satisfaction inside of her. Tyler was dead. He didn't make it out of the building.

As if Juice had somehow read her mind, he said after a pause, "Are you sure he won't come after you?"

"He's dead," Hailey replied calmly.

"How do you know?" Juice shrugged. "I mean, you gave him a choice, right? Do you really think he'd choose the money over life?"

"Yes, I do."

"How can you be sure?"

Hailey sighed and looked at him. "He wouldn't have gotten out anyway. He wouldn't even have got down to the next floor."

Juice furrowed his brow. "How do you mean?"

"I had the doors locked," she shrugged. "That bastard would have died anyway." She turned to look back out the window, and Juice remained silent. She knew what he was thinking about her. She knew that he was thinking of her as cold, and that this would do things to her. But it was already done. She was already destroyed. And she didn't care. The Butcher was dead by her hand, as her parents and professor were dead by his. Tyler was dead by her hand as her parents and professor were dead by his. She felt no remorse. The process of killing another human being was not a pretty process, and she had lived thought the worst of it. The second time was easier. She was sure it would all come to her later; the trembling, the breaking sweat, the nightmares, the panic… but at the moment, all she felt was calm. The calm before the storm. Because no matter how she twisted and turned it all, the fact remained that she had killed two monsters. She had acted judge and sentenced the two men, the two perpetrators, to death, and she had acted executer. Was it fair? Nothing really was. But this, she would consider rather fair. An eye for an eye, and in her count, she still had only killed two when the number was three. So in all frankness, it still wasn't fair. Would she go out on a killing rampage just to fill the quota? No. But she would forever go on with her live with the conviction that she still hasn't crossed that fine line between what's fair and what's cruel. Sure enough, she knew she might have brought a big grief upon Tyler's family, but she did nothing to them that he hadn't done to her. It was unfortunate that other people had to get involved with her and Tyler's business, but done was done, and it was done for the better.

When they arrived back at the garage, people weren't ready for them. Tig saw them first, and he found it hard to actually understand that it was Hailey, that she was back and that she was okay. When Hailey smiled to him and assured him that he wasn't dreaming, he had thrown himself upon her, hugged her tightly and started sobbing against her shoulder.

Calmly, she hushed him. "It's okay, Tigger. I wouldn't leave you all!"

The man pulled away and dried his pale blue eyes. The black mustache followed the curve of his lips, and he chuckled. "I love you, kid. You know that?"

She smiled. "I love you too, old man."

Bobby then came from inside the club house, wearing just as surprised and confused an expression as Tig had, and once he realized that she was back and that she was unharmed, he cheered loudly and pulled her into an embrace.

It was nice, she thought, to come back. To come home. Because she had to look at this place like that now; home. This was her family, and it would be even though her parents were still alive. She looked at Tig. "Where's Maggie?"

"She's still at the hospital," Tig said. "Tara thought it best to keep her there, and Jax and Chibs agree."

She bit her lip. "Well… where's Chibs?"

Tig sighed. "He spent the night fixing his bike. He's out on a ride. He left a couple of hours ago. Should be back soon." As Hailey nodded and looked away, Tig sighed deeply. "Look kid, he's been real worried about you."

"Yeah," Bobby said. "It's been impossible to get one sane word out of the man. Whatever you've done to him; undo it."

Hailey raised her brows. "What _I've _done? Well, what a welcome."

"Don't play innocent, sweetheart," Bobby muttered, but there was still a glimmer in his eye. "Chibs and a redhead? It—"

"—can only end one way, yeah, so I've heard," Hailey chuckled as she rolled her eyes. "I'll see what I can do."

More people had noticed her arrival, and amongst them was Jax. He wore a most unreadable face. But he told her he was glad she was alright, and they hugged. It was the first time she had ever hugged Jax, and for some reason, it felt extra good. It was as if she had received the acceptance she didn't get before. As they pulled away, he clenched his jaw and looked at her.

"Can I talk to you?" He was cautious not to sound as if something was wrong, she could hear that, and she played along and shrugged.

"Sure." She followed him into the club house. Both Chuck and Gemma was inside, and they were both equally happy when they saw that she was alive and well. Gemma rushed to hug her, but Jax put his hand up.

"Not now, mom," he said. "I've gotta talk to her first. Later."

Gemma seemed confused and then alarmed. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Jax said. "It's fine. Just give us a minute." He gently pushed Hailey ahead and into the chapel, where he closed the door. He let out a deep sigh before he sat down by the gavel and motioned her to sit.

"Is something wrong?" She was a bit worried, she couldn't deny that. It was a bit strange to come in like this, when Jax was looking so serious.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Wrong?" He sighed again and rubbed his eyes. "Look, Hailey, I know I haven't been the most trusting or supporting about this whole thing… I've been going on and on about that money and about how much the club needs it, and—" Hailey rolled her eyes. "—this is just… I don't even know what to say about this." He pulled out a paper. "Hailey, this is too much."

"What did you think I was going to do then?" she asked and raised an eyebrow. "Say, 'yeah, thanks guys for saving my life, but I'm gonna take my money and leave now, okay?' No. I wouldn't do that! You've deserved that money. All of you have!"

His jaw muscles flexed as he kept his blue gaze fixed at Hailey. "But this is a hundred millions, _each_! We can't take this kind of money! None of us can!"

Hailey closed her eyes and sighed. "Look, that's a fifth of all the money. I'm keeping about the same amount, and the rest goes to charity. I'm not gonna keep it all. I can't. What the hell am I gonna do with five billion dollars?!" She deliberately left out the part about the extra three billion dollars, because she had special plans for them.

Jax seemed speechless and fished in the air for things to say. "Well, I—don't you have dreams? Ambitions? Don't you wanna save some for your kids?"

"I'll have plenty left to do that, don't you worry," she said and raised her brow. "I will have a billion dollars. Do you understand how much money that is?"

"Well, when you get into those kinds of circles," Jax sighed, "that won't be a lot of money."

"Don't worry, I won't get into those kinds of circles," Hailey retorted.

"So you say that you'll come back here and live with bikers when you've graduated from Harvard and are in possession of a billion dollars?" Jax asked and raised his brows. There was a smug laughter in his voice, as well, and Hailey narrowed her eyes.

"Jax, I know you've never thought that very highly of me, but please," she sighed, "just _try_ to believe me when I say I wanna do this! I love you all! You're my family now, and we've all been through too much to say otherwise."

He sighed. "I know. I know! It's just… I feel guilty for taking this money."

"Don't be," she shrugged. "You need it, to get out of all this shit you're dealing with. You all now have the money to quit all this muling shit, you can take care of your families and just live life. It's my gift to you, and it's rude to deny a gift."

Jax looked at her, frowned with a conflicting expression as he slowly shook his head. "You're insane, you know that?"

Hailey smiled. "Oh, I know. Who _wouldn't_ be, spending time with you guys?"

He laughed. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

"Maybe?" Hailey smirked and crossed her arms. "I've paid you, so from now on, I'm _always _right."

Muttering, but wearing a grin, he said, "You'll be a pain in the ass when you're an Old Lady, you know that?"

Suddenly taken aback, Hailey furrowed her brows. "When I'm what?"

"Don't play with me," Jax said. "It's not really a secret. We all know it."

She clenched her jaw. What was the point? "Well… so?"

He shrugged. "'So' nothing. We think it's great."

"Did Chibs say anything?" She couldn't help but to feel a little left out here. It wasn't as if they had agreed on not telling anyone, but she still felt a bit left out in all of this.

"He didn't have to," Jax said, and for some reason, she felt relieved. So their relationship wouldn't be such a surprise, because sooner or later, they would have to drop the bomb.

In all honesty, Hailey was a bit tired of bombs at the moment. To know this one wouldn't be, was rather nice.

They sat in the chapel for a bit longer, talking about just random things. Jax asked what Tyler had done to her, and she told him everything. She told him about the grouping, about the remarks, and about the whole plan Maretta had set up without her knowledge. Jax listened and nodded. He was surprised that she had taken it all so well, and he still couldn't really understand that she had been to Zürich and back.

"Me neither," she said with a sign, "and the jetlag is really getting to me."

Jax was just about to open his mouth to say something when the roaring of a bike was heard from outside the club house. "It's gotta be Chibs."

Hailey nodded, suddenly so very nervous. Both of them rose and headed for the door, and Hailey fixed her shirt and cleared her throat. His husky, barking tone could be heard throughout the club house.

"Where is she?"

She could see him, striding into the main room, his glasses on and a cigarette in his mouth. The cross swung over his chest as he walked around, and his hair had fallen into his face as he turned his head about to see her. She was slightly hiding behind Jax as they walked, and when he finally caught a glimpse of her, he stopped in mid motion and it took him a good two seconds before he spoke.

"So… ye came back?"

He sounded surprised, and for some reason, it made her laugh. "Well, where else would I go?"

He shrugged as Jax quickly and silently removed himself from the scene. "I dunno… Italy?"

She chuckled. "Don't be stupid." She didn't hesitate before she strode up to the man and pressed herself against his chest in a tight hug. He threw his arms around her, and she could feel his sigh of relief, and tears started to build behind her eyes.

"Don' ye dare leave me like tha' again," he muttered against her head. "I didn' know whether ye were dead or alive!"

"I know," she said against his chest, letting the first tear roll down her cheek, and was slowly joined by others. "But I'm here now."

They stood like that for a long time, just holding each other. People passed them, more than once, probably, and no once seemed to notice them. Either that, or they all simply ignored it. When they pulled away, Hailey felt dizzy. The warmth and the safety of Chibs' embrace and the sudden burst of emotion made her so sleepy, her knees were trembling.

"Are ye okay?" Chibs asked.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I'm just tired. Jetlagged, you know."

"Right, come on." He led her into his room and practically forced her down under the covers to get some sleep.

"Will you stay?" she asked and looked at him.

The scars on his cheek had never been more beautiful than in the dim light from the sun through the curtains, his brown eyes glittering with something she liked to think of as longing. "Aye." He took his brown leather jacket off as he crawled down under the covers with her and placed an arm around her waist.

The scent of him, the feel of him, the rhythm of his heart… it was all nestling in with her, connecting with her in a way it never had before. She was so sure that he was the one. She was so sure that there would never be a person like Chibs. Sure enough, she hadn't been with _that_ many guys before him, but she'd had her fair share to choose from, and no one—absolutely no one—had even been close. She recalled her moment of doubt in Switzerland, and she knew that if she hadn't already met Chibs, Mark Pertille would have been her absolute ideal man. He was intelligent, he was deep, he was funny, he was friendly, he was handsome, he was very gentlemanlike… he was everything she had ever wished for before meeting Chibs, because frankly, Chibs was nothing she would have ever even considered before meeting him. She even remembered finding him somewhat repulsive and intimidating. Now, there was no one more wonderful than the man holding her close to him.

He didn't talk and he didn't move. He just lay there, breathing steadily and evenly, waiting for her to fall asleep. She doubted he would still be there when she woke up, but she didn't blame him for that. At least she could let his steady breaths be her lullaby once again.

**¤(SoA)¤**

She was breathing heavy now. Her red hair was flowing over the pillow, and he had buried his face in it, just to be drenched in the smell of it. She was there. She was real. She was alive. He really didn't expect her to come back, but she was back. She had come back to him, and she had gone to him.

The sleeping girl next to him was a treasure. She was invaluable, and he loved her.

While she was sleeping soundly, Chibs slid out of bed and went out to the main room to have a smoke by the bar. He'd had a call from his bank, telling him that an anonymous person had given him a hundred million dollars, and since he knew who it was from, it felt ominous. Was this a sign? Had she changed her mind? But she came back… she came back to him. Why would she come back unless she wanted to stay—or perhaps say goodbye. No, he couldn't think that way! It was strange, really, how he could have fallen so far and so hard for this girl when he'd promised himself never to love again. But she was the one. She was the only one who could ever compete with Fiona, and to be honest, he even started to think that Hailey was better than Fiona. Of course, Fiona was the mother of his child, and would forever hold a special place in his heart, but Hailey… she held many placed in his body. And, if he was allowed to dream, if he was allowed to look into the future with hope, Fiona might not be the only one to mother his children. He knew he was getting old. Children were a far stretch, but he imagined that Hailey might want some later on, and to be fairly honest, men could father children into their late seventies. So he still had loads of time… that was, of course, if Hailey really _had_ decided to stay with him.

There was a deep sigh to his left, and he turned to face Tig. "She's all tucked in?"

Chibs huffed. "Yeah."

"I still can't wrap my mind around it," Tig frowned. "I mean, she did it. She actually did it! She somehow cheated that fucker and beat him to the goal! Did you get a phone call from your bank today? Yeah, I did too. One hundred million fucking dollars, Chibs… she's fuckin' insane. But I'm not complaining."

Chibs nodded. "Aye. A generous farewell-gift, I suppose."

"Farewell—what the fuck do you mean, man?" Tig asked and lowered his brows. "Are you shitting me? She ain't leaving! Why the fuck would she leave?!"

Chibs raised a brow. "Are ye really tha' stupid, Tiggy?" When the mustached man seemed very confused, Chibs rolled his eyes. "Why do ye think tha' she would stay here? She wants te finish her studies, go te Rome, study there… she wants another life than this."

"Yeah, well…" Tig seemed to try to find something to say. "She could do that, too! I mean, we all go on trips, right? I mean, this would be her home."

Chibs shook his head. "This would be her prison."

"Come on, man!" Tig groaned. "You can't mean that?! Can you honestly say that you don't want her to stay?"

"Of course I want her te stay!" Chibs spat. "But I'm doubtin' she will!"

Huffing, Tig shook his head. "Yeah, well, I'm not." He took a cigarette from his breast pocket and lighted it. "You're just being a cynical ass, because you don't think you're good enough for her. Well, get over yourself, will you?" Muttering while shaking his head, Tig left the bar, leaving Chibs to himself.

A couple of hours later, when Chibs was mending one of the newly arrived cars, a small, rather sickly looking creature joined him while squinting in the sun. He looked at her with a smile. "Had a nice sleep, love?"

She nodded. "I was completely knocked out."

He chuckled as he leaned in to give her a quick kiss. "Aye, jetlag is awful."

She nodded. "So, what's this?"

"A Chevy Impala -64," he said. "Nice car, terrible shape."

She chuckled. "It looks like a piece of garbage, if you ask me."

"I didn't," he teased and he leaned in to give her another kiss, a deeper one. He didn't give a damn about who saw it.

Suddenly, a car rolled into the compound, a black, shiny one, and for a second, Chibs thought it to be Tyler, and he braced himself for the worse. But a woman stepped out. Maretta Chalvais. She seemed upset.

"Miss Reed," she said, her voice stern.

Hailey seemed to tighten, but looked otherwise rather calm. "Yeah? Is there something wrong?"

"What the hell did you do?" The woman was striding up to the redhead, and Chibs was quick on his feet to stand between his treasure and the British woman. "Get out of the way, Pict!"

"Oh, fuck you, ye little English c—"

"Chibs!" Hailey warned and determinedly heaved him aside. "Look Maretta, I don't know what you're talking about, honestly!"

Maretta laughed painfully scornfully. "Oh, and you believe I'd buy that? Come on, Hailey, let's be serious. You wanted him dead. You set off that bomb!"

Chibs furrowed his brows. Bomb? He looked at Hailey, whose face was so utterly surprised, it was as if it was the last thing she would ever hear.

"What?" she asked doubtfully. "You think that—wait, _what_?!"

"Don't pretend," Maretta growled. "You ruined our whole operation! I can have you arrested, you know that, right? The court doesn't give a damn about how much money you have!"

Hailey shook her head, devastation in her face. "Maretta, I swear, I don't know what you're talking about! What bomb?!"

Chibs looked at the woman, and there was a slight change in her countenance. "You don't know what I'm talking about?"

Hailey shook her head. "No! Did someone blow him up? Wait… is Tyler… _dead_?"

The British woman clenched her jaw and seemed to compose herself before sighing. "We don't know. Tyler Enterprises in Sacramento exploded earlier today, just before we arrived for the arrest. According to the police, there were remains found, but only of one person. We don't know who it was yet."

Hailey crossed her arms, seemingly nervous. "But… there is a chance that it was Tyler?"

Reluctantly, Maretta Chalvais nodded. "Yes. There is a… _possibility_ that it might have been Craig Tyler. Can you swear, by anything you hold dear, that you weren't involved?"

Frowning, Hailey dropped her shoulders. "Yes! Why would I risk something like that? My God, it was a miracle I got away in one piece!"

Seeming disappointed and relieved at the same time, Maretta nodded. "Alright. I believe you. I'm sorry for the intrusion. Miss Reed." She nodded at Hailey and turned to Chibs for a quick nod before she returned to her car and drove off.

Chibs furrowed his brows as he looked at the redhead. She was clenching her jaw. "Hailey," he started. "Is there somethin' ye need te tell me?"

She only looked at him with a worn out look, suggesting that they would talk later. But when 'later' arrived, she refused to talk about it.

They were in his apartment, enjoying a cup of tea after a delicious meal—that Chibs had actually made, just for her—when the subject was brought up.

"So," he said, "about tha' bomb?"

She sighed. "Look, Chibs, really, I don't wanna talk about it."

"So, you did it?"

She shook her head. "Please, let's not, okay?"

"Did you?"

"No."

Grabbing her arm and pulling her to his lap, he wrapped his arms around her and leaned his forehead against hers. Everything about her told him that she'd done it. But for the time being, he really couldn't care less.

**¤(SoA)¤**

Hailey didn't like lying, but for some reason, it didn't seem like lying to Chibs, because she knew he would understand what the truth was, anyway. Lying would be practically impossible. So, being seated in his lap, with her forehead against his, she ran her hands over his chest. "He touched me."

Chibs grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back, rather viciously, with anger and worry in his eyes. "He did _wha'_?!"

"He touched me," she repeated. "He touched me in a way I did not like, and I made him pay for it. He killed my parents, my professor, and he nearly killed Juice, he nearly killed you… I made him pay for all that. Isn't that fair? He can't hurt us anymore."

There was a second of confusion in the Scotsman's eyes before he clashed his lips onto hers, determinedly, forcefully, and she let herself be lost in his kiss, in the whole essence of him. There would never be anyone like him. Never.

He carried her into the bedroom, and there was this special passion felt between them, that had never quite been there before. It wasn't as if they simply _loved _each other more than before, no, it was more like they'd… found a much profounder understanding for one another, and a connection that slowly was building in a deeper level, like the slow, pulsating magma in an ancient volcano, and that profound feeling was so strong, so effective, she had never had such a release when being with him. It spread through her entire body, curled her toes, clawed her fingers, in a way it had never done before. It was release in its purest form, without being pushed or hasted, and afterwards, when they both lay panting next to each other, and it was in the air; that feeling of surprise yet indescribable relief. And that slow and steady magma was still pulsating deep within them, pulsating for each other.

Chibs turned to put his arm around her and pulled her closer. "I love you."

"I love you, too." She placed a hand on his, and a feeling tingled through her body, both alarming and satisfying; those hands, _his _hands, the hands that mended the broken, were the hands of a killer. They were the same now. They had been weathered, by wind and by water, to fit one another.


	30. In My Bones

**A/N: **My dearest, loveliest readers, here it is. The last chapter. It will be with pleasure and sadness that I post this last chapter. This one has been special to write. Not only because it contains some of the best characters ever (thank you Kurt Sutter!) but also because of all of you. I know, I know, it may sound cliché, but it's really all because of you that I've come this far. That I actually finished this story, ending on a word count of +135k and 224 pages. It's insane, really.. but I wouldn't have done it without you, guys.

Thank you all for your devotion, for your support and for your patience! You made this happen. I love you all, I really do, guests as users.

The quote I used is from _Radioactive_ by **Imagine Dragons**, and I'd like you all to just go and listen to it and hear its genius, its beauty. And it's be perfect song to end this project.

Now please,

for this last chapter,

enjoy!

* * *

**By the Laws of Murphy**

**Chapter Thirty**

"_I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones, enough to make my system blow; welcome to the New Age."  
_— _Radioactive, Imagine Dragons_

There was something strange about everything being normal. There was just so much that had happened the past month, Hailey found it a bit hard to process. Maretta had called her, telling her that the police had found the remains of a body amongst the wreckage of the blown up building, but the remains could not be identified. Hailey wasn't worried, though. Whether Tyler was still alive or not, he wouldn't go after her. He wouldn't dare. With the threat hovering over him, about the bounty, he would never as much as put his one foot inside of Charming. There was another factor to the equation as well; Hailey Reed had proven to be dangerous.

And she liked it.

So, whether or not the man was dead, Hailey didn't worry. Maretta made the conclusion that he was still alive, thus keeping her mission alive, giving it a meaning, a purpose. Hailey could understand Maretta's anger over the fact that she hadn't caught him, when she had been so close after working so hard to get there, but Hailey wasn't sorry. She had made a statement that said, loud and clear, that she wasn't going to let him wreck her life, and she had proved that two could play his dirty game. So she wasn't worried. Not the least.

Maggie had been thrilled to see that Hailey was still alive. She had embraced her friend and hadn't let go of her for ten full minutes. They had both cried, and Maggie had apologized, about a thousand times, and Hailey had explained as much as possible. Of course there were some things she couldn't tell her, but all of the important bits were revealed. Maggie stayed for a week or so, being all too traumatized to go home alone. Because when she returned, she wasn't alone.

Hailey went back to Harvard. Of course she did; that was the deal she made with Chibs. She would have to get her diploma. Although, she had hoped to marry Chibs before she went, but not everything goes according to plan. Well back at the university, it was like landing in a different world. After a week, it was as if she'd never left, and yet, so much was different now. People were taking distance from her—or closing whatever distance they might have had and been all up her face. They were asking her the most outrageous questions, about her going to jail, about her parents, about Mr. Reins… apparently, rumors had been spread vigorously in her absence. However, she did not let it bring her down. On the contrary, she relished in it. Not the part that they thought she had killed her own parents, and her much obsessed teacher, but in the fact that they respected her. Before getting dragged into this mess, she was practically no one. Not amongst the people that were seen as important in society, anyway, and even though she preferred her small group of friends with Maggie in the lead, she still liked the thought that people wanted to know her. People wanted to be her friend. And not only people as in students, but high listed companies and professors wanted her opinion in certain things. She was even given an offer as guest lecturer at Cambridge University in England for her deciphering skills. It wasn't that she was extraordinarily good at it, it was just that the reputation of Gerster Capital being one of the safest banks in the world, throughout history, made her look extra good, because she had been the first to break the codes. That she actually got the money, though, was not known.

She turned it down, though. It was a hard decision, but going to England would mean putting up her studies at Harvard for another year, thus not getting to see Chibs for another year. She would much rather stay at Harvard, graduate, move to Charming to get her Prince Charming and live happily ever after. She knew she was throwing away a life ambition of becoming something great, but in all honesty, it was only the dream of making big money out of what she enjoyed doing that triggered the ambition. Well, she didn't need to make big money now. She was loaded. She was filthy rich, and had still gained the reputation of being a generous saint after donating millions and millions of dollars to children's hospitals, orphanages, to schools in Africa, to the disables… the list could be made long. Well, technically, it wasn't Hailey Reed who'd done all of those heroic things, but Amanda Hayes. _She_ got all the credit, and _her _name was the name every magazine around America was writing about. Who was this elusive heroine? Was it a pseudonym for a big star? Was she really Lady Gaga in a mask the world had never seen before? Or maybe even Brad Pitt? Was she running for President? What was her preferred sex position? The magazines around the country had made it their new mission to find Amanda Hayes. Hailey could do nothing but laugh about it. Maggie, who actually knew the bit about Miss Hayes, was also unable to keep from laughing. Though, the girl had learned a lesson and would probably never reveal another secret again.

Well, Hailey had actually told her that a lot of people were looking for Amanda Hayes—a lot of bad people—and that had pretty much scared Maggie to silence.

She talked to Chibs almost every day, and despite the distance, she felt more close to him than ever. The man could not keep his mouth shut for more than a minute, and told her everything. Sometimes, the Scotsman talked so fast, his accent made it pretty much impossible for her to understand, and sometimes, she just let him ramble. She liked to believe it was because once he'd known what it was like to actually have an intelligent person to talk to, he simply didn't find his company satisfying enough, and she also liked to believe that he actually missed having her cynical ass around the apartment.

She also talked to Juice a lot, to the point where he actually seemed more like a brother than a friend. She was very glad to know that Juice and Chibs had sort of gotten past all the shit that had been keeping them apart, and things had started to be normal between them again. The only problem—according to Juice—was that Chibs was being a big bully. He made Juice read up to three books every month, all classics with that kind of English no one had spoken for a century. Hailey couldn't lie and say she felt sorry for him, because she would have probably done the same thing, had she still been in Charming. But she listened with devotion and told him that everything was for the greater good.

Tig was also an occasional caller. They didn't talk as often as she did with Chibs and Juice, but he still called now and again to ask how she was doing. He was apparently living life full out. He'd bought a boat and a house at the Riviera. Hailey asked him if he'd ever been to France, and he simply said no, but that he'd taken a visual tour of the house, and that he would go there one day. He also specifically said how hot French women were, and that he could not wait to go there.

It was kind of bizarre, really; even though they were about three thousand miles apart, she still felt as if they were all a big, strange family. And she missed them.

She missed Chibs the most, of course. She had gotten a lot of attention from men, both students and teachers, but none of them had the same qualities as Chibs. There was no doubt in her mind, that if she had successfully resisted the handsome banker, no one would ever threaten her attraction and love to Chibs. And judging by the way he talked to her and how he didn't seem to ever want to end their conversations, she was fairly sure she was still at the top of his list. And she liked to fantasize about how their wedding would be and how their future would be, and she couldn't get the kilt out of her head. She would definitely force him to get married in a kilt. There was no question about it. She pictured it purple and blue, but a dark red would match his eyes much better. And there would be bagpipers. She could not marry a Scotsman without bagpipers. Maggie had suggested having a full Braveheart theme at the wedding, with medieval clothing and everything, but Hailey knew Chibs would never buy that. She wasn't even sure he would ever agree on wearing a kilt in the first place. But she would find a way. Maybe a trade? Church wedding for kilt and bagpipes? She had asked him many times, but the answer was always the same; no kilt. But she retorted with; no church. And so they would go on, day after day. No kilt, no church.

Sure enough, she would try to convince him next time she went to see him, which, according to her calculations, would be in two months.

**_¤(Eighteen Months Later)¤_**

The fancy clothes were too warm in the boiling sun, even with the jacket off and the sleeves rolled up. Miriam, Hailey's nana, kept pulling them down, and Chibs kept pulling them up.

"Be serious, Filip!" she scolded at him, with a heavy Irish accent, making him feel right at home. "We're at a Harvard graduation, not a community college!"

As much as Chibs wanted to tell the old woman off, almost like a teen would do to his mother, he couldn't help but to laugh. He loved the woman! "Yes, ma'am." He even let her straighten his vest and dust his shoulders. The lady herself was wearing a pretty little hat and a pale yellow coat, and her white hair was curled and styled, and her little handbag was firmly clamped in her hands. She almost looked as if she thought she was the Queen of England. She was just a grandmother, though and through, and the fact that she was Irish, and the fact that she had not looked at Chibs with disdain—or any kind of hesitation, whatsoever—for being so much older than her granddaughter, just made her plain awesome. However, she did express some complaints about his white shirt being too open, revealing just a tiny bit of his dollar tattoo.

To this, Juice could not keep quiet, and laughed out loud. Oh, the Latino had been taken in as a favorite by the woman, and in his case, tattoos were not an issue. Although, Chibs had to admit he found it rather entertaining each time Miriam called the boy by his full name, and it was the perfect teasing factor.

He looked over the crowd of people through his shades, and most of them were upper class people with fancy clothes, fancy hairdos and expensive jewelry. Well, at the moment, he might fit right in, considering that the grey vest alone had cost him a fortune. Not to mention the pants! But he still wore his worn out boots. Didn't matter how much money he had; nothing could compare with a good pair of shoes.

The graduates were called up one after one, receiving their diplomas. Hailey was far down the line, and Chibs thought he would literally fall asleep before she was called to the podium. Maggie was called rather early—or so it seemed—and at least Chibs could wake up a bit to cheer on the girl, but after that, the line went on forever, and no Hailey. But after what seemed like an eternity, her name was called, and to his surprise, he, Juice and Miriam were far from the only ones cheering. She had not been kidding; she had gotten a fan club.

"She's like a celebrity," Juice said, impressed.

"Well, accordin' te the newspapers, she's Lady Gaga, remember?" Chibs said.

While Juice laughed, Miriam looked up at the Scotsman. "Who's Lady Gaga?"

When they all had been called up and when the speech had been made, and when the students had cheered enough and it was time to mingle with their families, Chibs kept stretching impatiently to see a set of red hair underneath the black hat. There, in the midst of all the people, he spotted her blue, magical eyes looking for him as well. She looked almost regal in her black and red robe and with the red hair falling gracefully over her shoulders. Her blue eyes then landed straight on his, and a smile spread in the girl's face as she came skipping towards them, the degree waving high.

"I did it!" she squealed as she jumped right at him, throwing her arms around his neck, and he much happily embraced her tightly.

"Aye, ye did!" He kissed her with a smile, and after letting her down, she turned to her nana, and embraced the old woman.

"Look, nana!" She gave her the diploma, and there were tears streaming down Miriam's face.

"I knew you could do it, sweetheart!" she sobbed. "Oh, look at that! You have to hang it here people can see it!"

She then turned to Juice, and the two of them embraced each other tightly, and Juice was almost as excited as she was about that diploma, as if he had gotten it, though her.

The girl was so bubbly, she could barely stand still, and Chibs had to raise his brows. And when Maggie appeared from the chaos, he almost had to cover his ears to save himself from the inhumanly high pitched noises they were making. When they were done, Chibs had a chance to say hello so Maggie and congratulate her as well.

"_God_, I thought this last year would kill me!" Maggie groaned and rolled her eyes. "I mean, _seriously_?!"

"Yeah, well, we made it," Hailey said. "We came, we saw, we conquered!"

Maggie laughed, and then she sighed, a relieved, exhilarated sigh. "Unbelievable. Alright, so," she looked at Chibs and then at Hailey, and lingered for a moment at Juice, "what's the plan? You're going to the party, right?"

Chibs felt guilty. Of course Hailey wanted to go to the party, but she had said herself that she wasn't going because she was spending the evening with Chibs, Juice and Miriam, packing down the last things for her move, because tomorrow, it was bye-bye Massachusetts and hello California.

"Sorry," Hailey said with a frown, but Maggie didn't seem upset.

Instead, she just rolled her eyes. "Party-pooper. Alright, but don't you all go tomorrow without saying goodbye to me!"

Now, Chibs knew _that _wouldn't be a problem; the girl would most probably go with them all the way to the airport.

Maggie then had to go—she had more friends to say hi to—and when she had disappeared in the thick of people, Hailey turned to Chibs and Miriam. "I'm exhausted."

"Hungry?" Chibs asked, and Hailey nodded.

"We've been talking, Filip, Juan Carlos and I," Miriam started, "about going to this very nice restaurant we drove past on the way here. What do you say?"

"You know I'd rather eat your food, nana," Hailey said, "but okay. I guess it's for the best. I'm literally starving!"

The restaurant they had found wasn't exactly a five star restaurant, and it was rather crowded, but it was nice, and welcoming, and Chibs had a feeling Miriam had sensed it to be an Irish restaurant, because if so, she had been spot on. The party of four didn't complain, though. They had lovely food, and had a lovely time, and when they had finished, they went back to Hailey's dorm to get all the things out. She had already packed it all in boxes, and the only thing that remained, really, was her parents' house. For one and a half year, she had kept it and paid it, but she had never stepped a foot into it, and Chibs had told her several times to sell it. He knew it must hurt, but she couldn't keep a house like that. She told him that she would sell it. She just needed to grab those things that meant the most to her first.

After dropping Miriam off with Juice at the hotel in Boston, Chibs followed Hailey to the house in Charlestown. They didn't say a word to each other as she put the key in the lock and opened the door. It was eerily quiet as they stepped in, and Chibs could see how Hailey crossed her arms over her chest, clearly uncomfortable by the whole setting.

He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Ye don' have te do this, love," he murmured. "Hire someone te do it."

She shook her head, making the red hair fly. "No. I need to do this." She boldly walked further into the house, the floor creaking underneath her feet, as Chibs took a firmer grip of the empty boxes they had brought and followed her.

Chibs wasn't easily frightened, but as he walked by the opening to the living-room, the very same room he'd witnessed Hailey's parents been blindfolded, gagged and bound, and then shot, he couldn't help but to shiver violently. He'd seen Death. He'd stood eye to eye with Death, but there was something so disturbing about that room, about the memories that appeared in his head, the images of their hanging head through the crimson colored lens, that just… got under his skin. It wasn't a pleasant feeling and if _he_ felt such discomfort being there, he could only _try_ to imagine how Hailey must have felt walking in.

It was an emotional process for the girl. She went through all the rooms without saying much, placing down a few objects in the boxes, and when they at last entered the living-room, she stopped by the thresh hold.

Chibs carefully came to a stand behind her and carefully placed his hands around her waist, pulling her to him. "Ye really don' have te, love."

"Yes, I do," she whispered, and the cries were seeping through her small voice. Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself forwards, away from Chibs' arms, and strode into the room.

Chibs silently followed. He watched her as she placed some books into the boxes, together with the Sinatra records that had been seen in the video, and that bowling prize. There were several family photos she took from the walls, and as she picked down one old photo, where Hailey herself couldn't have been more than four—a happy, smiling toddler with wild, red hair—there was a browned, faded stain of blood left on the wall, and she froze in place, staring at it.

Chibs could see the panic building in her eyes, as well as sadness and anger, and he slowly reached out to turn her away from the wall. She obeyed him, silently and easily. He turned her so that her back faced the stained wall, and she looked over the room. He looked at her. Only at her.

"This is where they died," she finally said. "This is where they were executed. Because of me."

"No," Chibs muttered. "Not because o' you."

"It is," she nodded, her chest starting to heave uncontrollably as tears welled up in her blue eyes. "It is because of me. It is my fault." She gave a violent sob as she broke down in tears, and she placed a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide open as she scanned the room while sobbing and crying violently, and Chibs sighed and pulled her to his chest.

On her happy day, he thought. On her happy day, she had to be sad. But maybe she needed it. Maybe this was the closure that would let her move forwards, to a new life, to a new age.

They spent another hour at the house, of which at least half of it was spent in tears, before they would move on. She didn't talk about it, and he didn't push her. She would, eventually. He knew she would. So they sat in the rental car in silence, and instead of going back to the hotel, they went to the bay, to just watch the beautiful evening sky light up by stars. They had taken a seat on a bench, Chibs' jacket over Hailey's shoulders, and she leaned to him, and he embraced her. For an hour, they didn't say a word to each other. They didn't have to.

Hailey was the one to break the silence. "I'm gonna miss Boston."

"Ye can always come back," Chibs said.

"Yeah," she sighed. "I just don't know if I really want to… too many memories, you know."

"Ye did good teday," Chibs said as he raised his brows and pulled away to look at her.

She huffed. "I had a break-down."

"Aye," he shrugged. "But tha' is expected, isn' it?"

"It's been one and a half year, Chibs," Hailey muttered. "I should be over it."

"Aye, but ye haven' dealt with it in one an' a half year," he pointed out. "Tha' shite's gonna sting more an' more the longer ye keep it waitin'."

"I know." With a sigh, she reached up to kiss him, and he met her.

There was just something magical, to kiss her there, in the twilight, on the day she was freed, from school and from pain, and when they'd broken the kiss, he reached over to slid a hand into his jacket. Hailey giggled, but he did not intend on feeling her up—he'd have plenty of time to do that later—but to pick out a small, velvet box.

Upon seeing it, Hailey gasped, and looked from the box to Chibs, then back at the box and then back at Chibs.

"Ye know," Chibs started, "while I know we've pretty much sealed the deal, I just felt like it needed te be done properly, ye know…" Slowly, he opened the box, revealing the small, silver ring with the Scottish thistle and a gleaming amethyst in the middle. "I know it isn' a flashy diamond ring an' all, but it's me mother's ring."

Tears were once again welling up in her eyes and she looked at the small ring in the small box. She covered her mouth as she huffed in astonishment. Tearfully, she looked up at Chibs. "It's… it's absolutely beautiful!"

He smiled. "Hailey Reed, will ye marry an' ol' sod like me?"

She laughed through her sobs as she shook her head. "You stupid man… I thought you'd never ask!" She threw herself at him, pressing her lips against his, and he wasn't late to answer.

Tongues dancing, hands travelling and groins aching, they decided it probably wasn't for the best to exhibit in such a way, and pulled away from each other. Though, the desire was still there, and it was almost with trembling hands he put the ring on her finger. She _was _his. Pulling her back to a kiss, she drove her hands through his hair.

"I want you, Chibs," she whispered.

"Ye're not alone in wantin'," he breathed huskily against her lips. "We do have a whole hotel room te ourselves, ye know…"

Giggling seductively, she pulled away. "Then what are we waiting for?"

**¤(SoA)¤**

In the car back to the hotel, Hailey could keep her eyes off the ring. It was a beautiful ring. Nothing too fancy, but just about right. It was neat and discreet and yet so very beautiful. Chibs knew her, knew her taste, knew her wishes and demands. And soon enough, Chibs would be her husband. It was a strange thought still, since she really didn't believe in the idea of marriage, but with Chibs, it just felt so right.

Well back at the hotel, they joined her nana and Juice as they were in the middle of a game of Scrabble. Juice was losing, big time.

"Ye're not doin' too well," Chibs teased.

"It's my third time losing!" Juice complained with a frown.

Hailey looked over his shoulder, on a piece of paper he had. "'Decaporated'? Juice, that's not even a word…"

"Yeah, I know, I suck!" Juice groaned as he buried his face in his hands.

Nana chuckled. "Don't you worry, lad. I've had a few more years than you to practice, you know."

Chibs and Hailey then joined, and they began playing a round in pairs, and this time, Juice would team up with his master, which in this case was Hailey's nana. And even though they'd joined forces, both Hailey and Chibs being smart enough, and though both of them had read countless of books, they still couldn't beat the mastermind of Miriam O'Neil. Juice had his victory, and Hailey and Chibs had to admit losing.

When the clock struck midnight, nana excused herself and went to her own room, and feeling like the third wheel, Juice soon followed her example, leaving Chibs and Hailey alone, and for some reason, her belly tingled nervously. They hadn't been alone many minutes before Chibs pulled her to him and kissed her hungrily, and she was anything but late to response. Stumbling, they made it to the bed, falling into it, Hailey on top, straddling him. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned his vest and his shirt, and as he sat up, she slid the clothing off of his arms. Their lips were fiercely connected, and Chibs demandingly tugged at her blue dress, unzipping it in the back and pulling it off. Without as much as a gentle word, he flipped her over while passionately leaving kisses from her lips down to her navel. She moaned slightly by the touch of his lips against her skin, and before the desire would drive her crazy, she sat up and tugged at his trousers, eager to get them off. He was very ready for her, she could feel that, and he was just as eager as she was to get rid of any clothing that would hold them back, and when the last of his clothes had ended on the floor, hers joined them.

There was something special about that night. They'd had many special nights, but that one was extraordinarily special. She was free. She was free to be with him until the day they died, and she truly looked forwards to it. She looked forwards to their house in Italy, the one she would buy as soon as she'd found it, and she looked forwards to all the days they would spend in bed, and have special experiences, just like this one.

She cried out loudly in blissful delight with every thrust, almost to the point where he had to hush her, telling her that she might wake up the whole damn hotel, but she didn't care. He might be going on fifty, she thought, but he made love like a mighty God; a cruel, cruel God that would fuck her fiercely and then tear her heart out and hold it in his hand, while it was still beating, holding it with an iron grip, enslaving her forever. And she didn't mind.

They reached their climax, and it was even at the point where Chibs actually had to cover her mouth with his hand so that she wouldn't cause attention, and then he rolled off, both of them breathing heavily.

"Oh, _God_!" she panted. "I love you…"

Without answering, he leaned over and kissed her gently. "I love ye, too, ye crazy woman!"

She slept heavily that night; safe, content. When the alarm went off the next morning, she didn't want to rise. She didn't want to rise from the warmness of the bed, and she didn't want Chibs' arm to leave her body. But they had a plane to catch. So she had to rise.

The breakfast was wonderful, and while nana and Chibs were both very awake and chatting away about stupid Irish and Scottish breakfasts, Hailey and Juice were both almost falling asleep at the table. But they could sleep on the plane; they had a full six hour flight ahead of them, and none of them really looked forwards to it. Luckily enough, they did have seats in first class.

At the airport, they were greeted by Maggie, and their goodbye was very tearful. Maggie was going to South Korea for a couple of months, with a company she had worked with for the last year, and they wouldn't see each other for eight months. But Hailey promised, that she wouldn't get married without her. How could she, really?

Just as Hailey had expected, the flight was a pain, but only because she really wanted to be there soon enough. She wanted to meet them all, hug them all and tell them all how much she loved them. It was the drive that killed her, because first, they had to go to Oakland to let nana off, and then there had to be a long goodbye, from all of them to nana, and then they could continue on to Charming. Once they drove past the sign welcoming them to Charming, Hailey could breathe. She was home.

Teller-Morrow was just as it had been when they left them last. The money had been invested in some things, but most of the things just stayed as they were. They had a whole greeting party out of the yard, and Hailey was almost crushed by all the bear hugs the guys were giving her. Bobby was nagging about seeing the diploma and Tig was constantly asking for some spicy party pictures.

"Come on!" Tig groaned. "You've gotta have made out with at least _one_ girl, right?!"

"Sorry to disappoint," Hailey said. But she could please Bobby, and showed him her diploma. He was very impressed and said that he would have liked to attend such prestigious university, too, but that he would have to settle with the education he had.

After a nice catch up with all the boys, the majority of them helped Hailey and Chibs to get all of her things into Chibs apartment—which suddenly seemed a lot smaller, with all the things… later that night, the club had organized a welcome-home party for Hailey, sort of as the graduation party she never had, and she was loving it. Not even the fact that the plastics were there could ruin her evening.

Chibs made their official engagement public, and the party cheered. Some said that it was about time, while some didn't get it—hadn't they been engaged since before she went to Switzerland? At least _they _already saw her as an Old Lady.

As many other partied had done before this, it derailed, in the truest Sons of Anarchy-air it possibly could, and before it had derailed all too much, Hailey and Chibs had retired, taking a refreshing walk back to the apartment. They were both so very tired once they came back in, so they both stumbled to bed without even changing. But they didn't fall asleep right away, but simply held each other while breathing slowly and steadily.

"I really do love you," she whispered.

"I really do love ye, too," he chuckled in her ear.

"So," she started, "about the wedding… I was thinking, a really nice short tux jacket to go with the kilt, and you would look so good in it!"

Chibs only groaned as he rolled his eyes and clashed his lips onto hers.

They both knew that they could go on debating this forever. Kilt and church, or no kilt and no church? In the end, they might not even have the time to actually marry. Maybe they would sit there, on the terrace at their house by the Mediterranean, many years from now, when he was eighty and she was sixty, and still debate about kilts and churches?

But would it matter, really, in the long run?

No.

Because at least, they would have each other.

**Fin.**


End file.
